The Hidden
by MamaRaya
Summary: Eight years later. Bellatrix Lestrange has escaped Azkaban and is after Narcissa, Hermione, Draco, Harry and Ginny. Being on the run is going to make things interesting. Dramione!
1. Chapter 1: Escape

**Death Eater Bellatrix Lestrange Escapes from Azkaban!**

 **By: Rita Skeeter**

 _Late Friday evening, guards at Azkaban making rounds found Bellatrix Lestrange's cell empty. The infamous Death Eater, one of Lord Voldemort's most devoted followers, was locked up eight years ago following an unanimous indictment in the Wizengamot. Her characteristic manic insanity and confession to killing dozens of witches, wizards, and muggles during the war, made her a particularly easy collar for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. There has only been one other escape from the island prison in the last century, that of Lestrange's late cousin, Sirius Black. Lestrange's whereabouts are unknown, and Minister of Magic Cassandra Crickerly has asked everyone to be cautious and on the lookout for the dangerous criminal. This reporter wonders if we've all gotten a little too relaxed in these quiet years._

* * *

Hermione folded the _Daily Prophet_ and set it beside her now cold tea. Waving her wand in a slow circle, she heated up the delicate mug and looked out of the window that her small dining table faced. It was her favorite part of the day, the calm two hours she gave herself before heading to the Ministry. Every morning, she sat at the little wooden table that might barely fit two people comfortably, read the paper, drank her tea with a squeeze of lemon, and picked at a scone or slice of toast. In the winter, she would be early enough to watch the sun rise; in the fall, she watched the rain coat the thin pane of glass. In fact, she had picked the apartment for this odd window near the kitchen. This summer morning, the sky was already bright and warm, and Hermione made an intentional effort to listen to the songbirds.

Trying to tell herself that this news wasn't anything to be overly concerned about, Hermione sighed deeply and reached down to her cup and hissed as she pulled her now burned hand away. She bit her tongue to keep from cursing, despite being alone. Apparently, it was going to be one of those days. Worst of all, she had a meeting this afternoon that she had been dreading for weeks. Draco Malfoy was coming to the Office of the Minister to discuss the new Potions Ingredient Importation Regulations.

Hermione was still cautious about Malfoy. Harry had forgiven the boy with a totality and speed that Hermione tried to understand, but Harry was different. He had absolved Snape, Draco and Narcissa Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson and plenty of other people who he insisted were acting with good intentions or had changed sides in the middle of the Battle. Hermione didn't find it quite so easy to forgive the Death Eaters and bullies. She was forced to admit, however, that Malfoy had been doing his best to turn his image around in the last few years, though that certainly wasn't a selfless act. He had turned his father's old Apothecary business, which had essentially become an empty front to import dark objects and brew illegal potions, into a high-end all-encompassing potions business, with ingredients and pre-made brews sought after by St. Mungo's healers, students, and the wizarding elite alike. Hermione rolled her eyes to herself. His "self-made" success was obnoxious, and he had an opinion on nearly every policy the Office of the Minister tried to pass, so today's meeting was sure to be especially annoying. Draining her cup, she pushed herself out of the small wooden chair and began her day.

Harry was standing at the door outside of her office when she got there. His eyes glowed with that mix of anger and excitement that Hermione had become accustomed to in the last fifteen years. He could have been about to tell her something horrible Snape had said in detention.

"Good morning, Harry."

"Did you see this?" Harry ignored her and any attempt at pleasantries and held up a copy of today's _Prophet._ Hermione winced at the photo of the wild haired madwoman, who snarled and winked back at her on a loop.

With a huff as she blew her wild hair out of her face, Hermione opened her door and gestured for Harry to enter. "Yes, Harry. I saw it this morning."

"And?" He had very clearly been expecting more of a reaction.

Hermione shrugged, but Harry's exasperation made her reconsider her casual attitude, at least for his sake. She looked up at him with an expression wearier than she actually was. She didn't want to _talk_ about this, or think about this, or even work on this, to be honest. She wanted desperately to ignore it. She had been through too much ministry-required therapy to bring up this trauma all over again. "You'll catch her, Harry. The department works since you turned it around. Don't worry, you'll get her."

Harry's eyes gleamed a little with the compliment, but his face was determinedly serious. "If she can get out, others can too."

Hermione sighed and continued to unpack her bag, preparing for a long work day. "I know."

Harry leaned in and his voice grew low and soft. "What she did to you…"

Hermione cut him off with a sharp look. "I know, Harry." When he opened his mouth to speak again, Hermione stopped him. "Why are you here talking to me when you should be finding her? And securing the prison?" She walked around the desk to put a small hand on his lanky shoulder and saw the little wrinkle near his mouth that told her he was stoically hiding concern. "Don't worry about me." She gestured to her desk. "I've got enough to worry about, and so do you." She stood up straight and lifted a corner of her mouth in a gentle grin. "Go put that big, over-funded department of yours to work."

Harry scoffed. "It's not _my_ department."

She waved a hand at him, like she was dismissing the difficulty of a spell in Charms class all over again. "Gable does whatever you say, just tell him-" she looked up at Harry with the first sense of fear she had allowed herself all morning. "Tell him what you know about her." Harry nodded solemnly and moved towards the door. "Oh! and Harry!" Hermione shouted at his back, playfulness in her voice. "You know you'll have to work with the D.A. on this one." He scowled, and with a laugh and a wave of her wand to close the door, Hermione was alone.

* * *

The tan ministry owl flew to Ginny's cubicle more than two hours after the Prophet had been sent out. "About bloody time, Potter" she said to no one, feeding the owl a treat from the jar on her desk.

 _Come to my office ASAP; Lestrange Escaped._

"Certainly doesn't waste any words, does he?" Ginny addressed the owl, who tilted its head thoughtfully. Ginny checked the time at the comically huge clock on the wall of the enormous room of cubicles that made up the _Daily Prophet_ reporter's room. The first scouting session she wanted to cover wasn't until noon. With a head pat for the owl, she grabbed her outer robes and walked to the employee fireplace at the far wall, shouting for the Ministry of Magic.

Landing in one of a hundred fireplaces and walking through the bureaucratic lines that made up the Ministry lobby always gave Ginny the creeps. There was no art or interesting architecture here, and they had torn down the heinous statue for a depressing Wall of Memorial, forcing her to avoid eye contact with a shining black tile engraved with Fred's name every time she visited. Upon entering one of the creaky lifts with five wizards in dull navy and black professional robes, Ginny grinned at the sight of the flying memos that hovered above their heads. She always wanted to reach up and read them, sure that some of them were flirtatious or even dirty messages bored ministry employees passed back and forth. Ginny liked to bug Hermione for good ministry gossip, but she never provided. _Spoilsport_.

Arriving at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, fifth floor, Ginny sashayed off of the lift, her shortened forest green robes and tall dragon leather boots forcing the eyes of the middle-aged bored-looking wizards to watch her go.

"Come in" Harry's voice called while Ginny was still knocking.

"You summoned. What can I do you for, Potter?" Ginny smirked as she watched Harry attempt not to look at the peek of her athletic legs that flashed between her robes and boots.

Harry gruffly closed the notebook he was writing in and put his quill in the inkpot. The sound he made was very nearly a growl. "You think this is funny, Ginny?"

Ginny plopped herself into the one of the remarkably ugly red tartan chairs he had picked for his guests on the other side of his desk. She crossed her legs, letting the skirt of her robes ride up a little and tilted her head at him. "You know, you remind me more of Mad-Eye with every passing day."

"How did she get out?" He pushed his glasses further back on his nose and leaned forward in his seat.

"I believe that's supposed to be your job." Ginny's voice, still playful, had taken on a sense of gravity and a bite of bitterness. "Dumbledore's Army isn't responsible for keeping the criminals in prison. We just help you capture them and let you lot take the credit."

Harry glared at her. "We're just trying to keep people safe."

"And how's that going this morning, Harry?" Ginny's voice was flat and she flashed another small smirk as she uncrossed her legs.

"You really want to joke about that?"

"You really want to work for the organization that thought you belonged in prison for years?"

"Like the _Prophet_ 's any better!"

"For goodness sake, I'm writing about Quidditch, not gossip."

"Skeeter still works there, doesn't she? You defending her?"

"At least she's not useless like Gable or half the department heads in this place!"

Ginny realized she was standing, her hands propped on her desk, her face flushed when she noticed that Harry was doing the same. Their faces were only inches away and she could see the dilation in his famous eyes and the crooked eyelashes behind his glasses from sleeping on his stomach. Her gut clenched at the way his breathing had grown heavier. Exhaling a slow breath to calm herself, she stood straight and backed away from the desk, her posture straight, her face all business while her blush faded.

"What do you want the D.A. to do?"

Harry had stood up to mirror her. "We'd like to begin tracking her, as soon as possible." He looked down at his desk and uselessly shuffled a few pages around. "Obviously we'll put a team on her here but you have better informants on the ground and can use...more methods than we can." Ginny nodded, resisting the urge to gloat at his compliments. "You should probably put-"

Ginny cut him off with a fierce eyebrow raise. "Going to tell me how to run my organization, Potter?"

"Wasn't always yours." Harry grumbled.

"You're right, Hermione can come run it anytime she likes." Ginny flipped her hair behind her shoulder, wondering if it smelled the same as when he had told her that scent drove him wild. She felt his eyes on her as she exited.

* * *

Harry set his head down on his desk. Hard. And groaned. He couldn't be sure what bothered him more, that being an Auror meant working for the ministry, which though improved still acted like a corrupt government agency sometimes, that the D.A. could be more effective than the DMLE, or that _she_ headed the D.A. Because no matter how friendly you are with their family, having to work with and see your ex on a very regular basis was trying.

Ginny Weasley had become an inexplicable person in his life. They were supposed to be…he didn't like to put the words to it. He had thought about her and worried about her every day during the war, and her arms afterwards had been a relief sweeter than the first time he woke up unafraid. She had been supportive of him even while she mourned Fred. She practically took care of the rest of the Weasleys through her own grief. Harry thought about that summer more often than could be considered healthy. They would fly for hours and spend wonderful afternoons doing not much at all but always touching, grazing, holding, kissing. She had gone off to her last year at Hogwarts and they had written letters and shared Hogsmeade weekends and had the best Christmas of his entire life at the Burrow.

And then, just as they were building their own lives, it all fell apart. She hated that he worked for the Ministry; he hated that she chose to play for the Harpies and was never home. It bothered him that she partied a fair amount with her team; it bothered her that he was still fighting, still living like they were at war. Then Ron and Hermione had broken up and suddenly they couldn't think of a reason why they were together.

That was six years ago, and Harry still hadn't dated anyone he liked very much. Ron did a good job at setting him up with the seemingly endless line of women he knew. Being Deputy Head Auror didn't hurt when it came to getting dates, and being Harry Potter didn't either. But then Ginny was a war hero, and a Quidditch star, and some American teammate of hers had taught her that new way of wearing her robes at just the right length. Harry still felt a painful twinge of jealousy when Ginny went out with anyone, even if he was doing the same.

In the end, it didn't matter how much he still dreamed about her, or how angry he was at her, or how much he missed flying with her. He still saw her at nearly weekly Weasley dinners, and holidays. The Aurors and the D.A. collaborated far more than the public would ever know, and he was still a member of the D.A. besides, though she was polite enough not to give him direct orders too often. She would never be out of his life, and she would never be in it the way he had once been so sure that she would be. Harry sighed and slammed his hand into his forehead, as though he could push her out of his head. The same question that always popped into his head recurred. _Why couldn't she just be my best mate's sister?_

Harry startled. _Ron_. He had forgotten his lunch meeting with Ron. Harry's eyes ran from the paperwork he still needed to complete, to the clock that said he was already late, to the cover of the _Prophet_ and the screaming woman silenced by the camera. _Damn._ Harry reached for a scrap of Ministry Memo paper and cringed at the memory of Ginny's comments.

 _Can't do lunch. Lestrange taking over my whole day. Have to delay dealing with the banshee problem. See you at the flat._

Charming the memo and sending it to Ron's office, admittedly just a hallway from his own, Harry resigned himself to a hungry afternoon glued to his desk, somehow saving the Wizarding World from Bellatrix Lestrange and securing Azkaban.

* * *

Draco Malfoy had found a swanky Muggle restaurant/bar where he preferred to hold any meetings. The irony was not lost on him, but a well-made martini, staff that didn't bother him, nearly guaranteed privacy of conversations, and a rather spectacular rib-eye steak made up for the necessity of exchanging gold for pounds. He liked the lighting too. He really liked the lighting when its blue and white bulbs shone on the woman walking towards him now. Hermione Granger's skin had a glow that was uniquely hers. Today she was carrying her outer robes in her arms, no doubt having peeled them off in the heat, and her white blouse was almost transparent in the neon brightness. The sight of her warm brown skin pressed under the fabric made a shiver run down Draco's spine and he hissed an inhale, quickly averting his eyes.

As he was raised to do, Draco stood to pull out the chair for her as she approached. "Afternoon, Granger."

She looked around the room as though it had personally offended her. "How can you even tell?" He answered with a short laugh because it felt appropriate. Draco always did what felt appropriate nowadays. He clenched a fist to keep from brushing her shoulders with his hand as he moved back to his seat.

"I find it easier to focus here. Far better than those fluorescent offices you poor Ministry workers suffer under. I don't know how you get a single thing accomplished." He raised a blonde brow at her, silently remarking at how inefficient the Ministry had become.

Hermione eyed him up and down, finding where his chest hit the table and following the well-fitted robes all the way to his eyes. He thought she probably didn't even realize she did it. She held his eyes. "Perhaps we would get more done if _business owners_ didn't feel the need to weigh in on every policy we are trying to enact." She looked up as the waiter approached silently but she blanked, suddenly looking at Draco and the drink in front of him as though it would provide answers. "Oh…um. Whatever red you have open, thanks."

Draco tried to repress the cocky sneer he was itching to release. "Your best Merlot for her, and another for me as well." He tapped his own nearly empty martini glass. The bar was under strict instructions to make them weak when he had company. Hermione's face flashed anger towards him at his correction.

Draco let the sneer escape. "You'll like it, Granger. I promise." He relished the slight blush that rose on her brown cheeks and watched her gather herself into professional mode.

"Shall we discuss the P.I.I.R. or did you just want to waste my time, Malfoy?" Her tone just walked the edge of mean.

Draco gave her a real smile. The truth was, he only had a few nitpicking issues with the regulations. It was just an excuse to see her, to fight with her, to look at her, under perfectly acceptable circumstances. All the meetings were an excuse. A perfectly appropriate excuse. And he was always perfectly appropriate. That's what he had sworn when he rehabilitated his image. No temper tantrums, no speaking of Lucius, no cheating or bribing (unless necessary), no girls. But in the challenging process of becoming legitimate, he had found Hermione Granger back in his life.

She ran the Minister's office, she practically ran the Ministry, and he would try to sneak a shipment under the radar of the Department of Dangerous Substances and she would find out somehow, or he would bribe (again, only when absolutely necessary) an assistant to slip up on a sentence to change a policy just a bit, and she would find out. The fines were one thing, her tidy scrawl arriving via ministry owl, but the lectures were another. Her wild hair flying behind her, her eyes almost gleeful with the opportunity to chastise him. She had irritated him to no end for months. Then she was all he could think about. Then she showed up in a few choice dreams. Finally, one day, she caught him leering at an intern, convincing the poor girl to misplace a few invoices, and she grabbed his collar, stood an inch from his face, and asked that he set meetings with her if he had issues with policies from now on. He could tell that she regretted that invitation. They had lunch or drinks on a near-weekly basis. It was a fascination, nothing more, nothing to worry about, and he had grown good at telling himself that.

Draco folded his arms in front of him and leaned back. "I have quite a few problems with the new regulations, Granger. Where shall we begin?"

* * *

The back room of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes was crowded with flattened bright purple shipping boxes, cardboard boxes full of stock for the shop, red boxes full of the Weasley's defensive products for D.A. use, and an entire corner full of brooms, enough for most of the D.A., in case of emergency. The chairs and extended table that took up the middle of the room were almost an afterthought. Sometimes D.A. meetings felt like they were taking place in a storage shed. Ginny secretly loved the feeling. Grimmauld Place had always felt like a mansion, and it made the Order of the Phoenix feel a bit big for its britches, _all due respect._ This felt like a field office, like they could actually fight a battle out of this room. It felt useful, and that was how the D.A. felt too.

Neville was already there when she apparated into the alley outside and walked into the back entrance of the store. He hid it well, but Ginny could see the pale flatness of his face. She hugged him gently, her long arms stretching around his wonderfully broad shoulders. _Mm._ She helped herself to a hand on his hard chest and looked up at him, conveying apology and concern and _I'm here for you._ He gratefully rubbed her back and nodded his thanks. They were still wrapped around each other when the door opened to let in the Patil twins.

"This again?" Parvati raised an eyebrow and giggled. The twins had both, how would Ginny put it, _blossomed._ Parvati had gone from a gossipy teen to a real soldier, albeit a unique one. Her divination skills were better than anyone had imagined, and Lavender's death had hardened and focused her. She was quite popular in certain witch communities, and her bright violet pompadour and the many delicate piercings that made her face sparkle made her a fascinating woman to even look at. Meanwhile, Padma had taken on a bookishness even Hermione had never attempted. She wore glasses and dark, flowy robes that made her look almost bat-like and gave her an eerie ability to hide in plain sight. She was a walking encyclopedia, and her attention to detail and gift for de-escalating any situation made her invaluable. Ginny had called them for a reason, and not because Harry was about to tell her to do so.

Neville laughed and Ginny pulled away from him, leaving a hand on his chest for a brief moment. "No, but could you blame me?" Ginny tossed the joke at the girls and winked at Padma, whose expression didn't change except for a tiny smile that was gone in a blink. It was really as much as anyone got from Padma, and it made Ginny laugh. She hopped up on the table, sitting hunched over and beginning. "So."

"She's out." Neville finished for her, her face still wan.

"What's the plan?" Parvati looked between Neville and Ginny. They shared the role of leading the D.A., and hardly ever disagreed about what to do.

Ginny fixed her posture on the table. "Neville's going to up security on…his parents, and anyone else we think she might target. You two are on tracking." They nodded simultaneously. "Do whatever you need to do, but if you get close-" Ginny's eyes widened and her voice became hard. "call for help. Do not try to take her on alone." Ginny watched Padma agree and Parvati pause. She addressed the Gryffindor forcefully. "If you see something that can convince me otherwise, I'll consider it. Until then, this stands." She glanced at Neville and his eyes gave no sign of disagreement. Parvati nodded with a mischievous smile.

"Do you have any leads?" Padma's voice floated.

Neville looked at Ginny, then the ground and shook his head, answering for them both.

* * *

Hermione left her meeting with Malfoy carrying a headache and a stack of notes. The pounding in her forehead was primarily due to the knowledge that Malfoy would get the changes he had asked for, "on behalf of the larger business community." The two glasses of wine and sudden adjustment to natural light didn't help either.

He had asked for completely reasonable changes, nothing she could argue adamantly against (though she had done her best), and she knew that the business community actually did put their trust in him to represent their interests with the Ministry. It was the _way_ he asked for the changes that made her clench her thighs tightly together under the table to keep from screaming at him. Malfoy had been so tense at Hogwarts, even when he was acting cool or being a horrible bully. He had always seemed one insult away from imploding, like an over-full balloon or a particularly skittish cat. He had flinched far too often for a child.

Hermione sighed as she packed up her bag and prepared to leave the office, knowing she wouldn't get anything further done that day. Among the paperwork she preferred to sort into organized piles at the end of the day, only to fervidly strew them about the desk while being productive, lay the morning's _Prophet._ Bellatrix Lestrange's face shrieking out at her. Hermione sat back into her chair, suddenly defeated.

Without thought, she moved a hand to her left bicep, rubbing the old scar there. Her bloodied tattoo that stung of both hate and victory. Sometimes in a certain light, Hermione would catch a glance of the scar on Harry's hand. Now it was barely legible, but she knew it read Umbridge's nasty refrain. Secretly, Hermione was a little glad to have a scar and she wondered if Harry felt the same, but doubted it. He had worn scars his entire life. Hermione had a possibly perverse appreciation of having been marked physically by the war that had wounded them all in so many invisible ways.

Yet here was the woman who had taken an hour to carve deep into her skin, each slice dripping with a disgust Hermione couldn't even imagine. Bellatrix was loose, and Hermione could admit to herself, silently, in the windowless privacy of her office, that she was afraid. She had earned this scar and won that war; she didn't think she could handle another.

* * *

There was a very angry woman at Harry's door when he finally reached the flat he and Ron shared.

"Erm, ello Lila." Harry greeted her nervously. She was tapping her foot, arms crossed, with quite a small dress on. The picture of a jilted woman. Harry didn't have much experience with those but he knew they weren't exactly predictable.

"Where is your roommate?" Her tone was sharp, her slightly Irish accent doing little to dull the anger in it. Ron had met Lila when she interned at the Department of Magical Creatures. She was quite a few years younger than them, thin, and very tall. Harry wasn't sure if either of them really liked each other, but they had gone out regularly for a couple of months. She made very strong tea in the morning and didn't take long in the shower, so Harry didn't mind her.

Harry looked at her sideways. "I'm guessing he was supposed to be with you?"

Lila just raised both eyebrows in emphatic agreement. Harry had the distinct feeling that he was silently being called an idiot.

"Er...right." He gestured to the now open door. "Would you like to come in and wait for him?"

She nodded and followed him in.

Lila waited for another hour before she made a rather timid excuse and left, pulling her skirt down behind her as though she had just realized how short it was.

Harry didn't get concerned until he was going to bed. Assuming Ron had simply gone out after work and was having too good of a time, he left out a large glass of water and some Pepper Up Potion and went to bed.

The owl wasn't an owl at all, but a large, menacing crow that scratched its claws at Harry's window at some ungodly hour in the middle of the night. Harry cursed and got up to retrieve the letter, keeping his distance from the bird. As he began to open it absentmindedly, he walked into the hallway and peeked into Ron's room, the door still ajar and the lights off, just as it had been when he had gone to bed. The water glass on the table hadn't been touched.

Harry looked down and found not a letter, but a photo: Ron, a rope around his neck, bright red scars and bruises on his naked chest and arms, his hands tied behind him, a gag in his mouth, balancing frantically on a chair.

Harry's heart stopped.

But he knew that chair. Ginny had been sitting in it this morning.

* * *

 **A/N: I tried to make myself wait until I had more of this written but I got way too anxious to find out what y'all think, so please review and let me know!**

 **And Happy Pride Month to all my family out there!**


	2. Chapter 2: The List

Ginny Weasley came busting into the private room at St. Mungo's Hospital looking murderous, despite her tattered sweatpants and tight t-shirt. Hermione watched Harry take in her friend's evident bralessness and anger with almost equal interest. She held up a scrap of paper and began yelling at Harry and Hermione, clearly unsure who deserved her wrath more.

"THIS IS NOT HOW YOU TELL SOMEONE THEIR BROTHER HAS BEEN BLOODY TORTURED!" Despite, or maybe helped by, the serious situation, Hermione held back a giggle. People liked to compare Ginny to Molly because of their lightning tempers, but Molly had a very different reaction when someone was hurt, at least initially. Ginny read out the note and held it up to them. " _Come to St. Mungo's. Ron. Don't Panic."_

Her eyes bugged out wildly. "DON'T PANIC?! ARE YOU BOTH INSANE? WHAT MAKES A PERSON MORE LIKELY TO PANIC THAN TELLING THEM NOT TO PANIC?!" Hermione gathered herself together enough to hold a finger to her lips, indicating that Ron was actually still asleep and they were, in fact, in a hospital, in the middle of the night and perhaps the screaming could wait until regular business hours. Ginny refused the polite invitation to shut up, but did lower her volume incrementally. "Oh no, you don't get to tell me to be quiet! You think I don't know this is your handwriting?!"

Harry stepped towards Ginny hesitantly, carefully placing a hand on her shoulder, which she shook off. "Ginny. He's okay. A little scratched up, but nothing internal, nothing in his brain. There was no…" Hermione suspected that he wouldn't say _Cruciatus_ because of her presence. "He's pretty much fine." Hermione watched as Ginny's breath return to normal, and tears began to drip slowly down her cheek. Ginny turned towards Harry, and Hermione resisted rolling her eyes when they both moved to hold each other before backing off _. Stubborn jocks._

Hermione approached the pair. "Ginny, we called you for another reason. Come look at him." Ginny's exhaustion shown underneath her confusion and Hermione led her to Ron's bedside. He looked almost normal, like maybe he had gotten ahold of one of the twins' more violent trick toys and it had gotten the best of him. His body hidden under thin hospital blankets, his face showed only a black eye and a few scratches, but the rope burn on his neck made Hermione want to weep. Ginny hissed in a breath at the look of him.

They both turned around quickly at the sound of the door as Draco and Narcissa Malfoy entered the room. Ginny looked at Hermione questioningly, and the bushy-haired girl nodded to tell her they had been invited. They were both fully and well-dressed despite the hour, but Hermione caught her breath as she noticed Draco's slightly mussed hair and sleepy eyes. She wondered what he looked like when he slept, if he was one of those grown men that transformed into innocent boys when they were dreaming. She imagined his lips slightly parted, his flat chest rising steadily under silk sheets. _What was that?!_ Hermione shook herself out of the insane thought process with a nod at the small family.

She handed the piece of parchment in her hands to Harry, gesturing for him to begin talking. He stuttered a bit, then she watched him don his authoritative Auror persona.

"Right. We're all here because something's happened."

Draco interrupted. "What does Weasley's getting himself beaten up have to do with my mother?" He reached a protective arm towards the small woman.

Harry sighed, frustrated already. "I'm about to tell you, Malfoy." He looked towards Ron, then down at the paper. "Ron was kidnapped and beaten by Bellatrix Lestrange." Harry's eyes flickered at Narcissa, whose upbringing had somehow taught her to remain unshakeable even now.

"I'm sure you don't mean to place any of that blame on us, Potter." Draco's tone was even, but she could hear the childhood bully just under the surface.

Harry shook his head. "Of course not." He held up the paper and a photo he pulled from his pocket. "We found him because this photo was delivered to me." Draco stalked up and politely took the photo out of his hand. Hermione saw a flash of repulsion in his eyes as he took in the moving image of Ron's struggle to balance. "He was in my office. We were able to get to him pretty quickly."

Ginny chimed in, her voice much smaller than it had been five minutes ago. "Why would she help you…" She looked up at Harry, almost childishly.

Harry rubbed his lips together. Hermione scanned faces and found Narcissa looking strangely like she knew the answer.

"He wasn't her target, Gin. He was the messenger." Narcissa's eyes closed momentarily, like it had become very hard not to emote. "He was holding this note."

Draco's voice was quiet, nervous as he broke into the heavy pause in the room. "Get to it Potter, what does it say?"

Harry looked down and read the list. "Hermione Granger. Harry Potter." He looked up at each face in turn. "Draco Malfoy. Narcissa Malfoy. Ginny Weasley."

The room was silent.

Hermione had a burst of love for Harry when she saw what it took out of him to read the list. They all knew he may have just read out their death sentences. Harry had never been able to see other people get hurt.

"We don't know what it means-not for sure." Hermione stepped in for him. "Ron wasn't able to tell us much, just that it was Bellatrix and she gave him the list."

Everyone, including Draco, was surprised when Narcissa took a graceful step forward and began to speak. Hermione was amazed to hear how different her voice was from either of her sisters'. Andromeda had a maternal severe tone, and Bellatrix screeched evilly. Narcissa spoke in a cool hum, feminine and suggestive. "Bella holds a grudge. Each of us…there's a reason she's decided to target each of us." Her mouth closed around the last word.

Ginny stepped in to finish the thought. "And she's been in prison for eight years…" She looked at Harry. "She's had time to plan whatever she wants to do."

Hermione ineffectively tried to keep her voice from sounding scared, though she thought she may have failed. "And she doesn't want to do anything…good." Hermione looked up to see Draco watching her intently, his eyes burning into her.

"Okay." Draco looked at Harry and Ginny with a sudden alertness. "What are we going to do about it? How are we going to protect them?" Hermione wasn't sure if it was in her head, but Draco seemed to pause when he looked at her and Narcissa. "You two had better have a plan."

"We just got here, Malfoy. We're all on the same page now. Nobody has a plan yet." He looked at Ginny. "But we're working on it."

"Well" Ginny stepped forward and the circle grew tighter; Hermione felt everyone wake up a little. "Both the Aurors and the D.A. sent out trackers earlier today, and the D.A. upped security on old victims of hers and anyone that fought her at Hogwarts." Hermione threw a surprised scowl at Ginny. _Did they put security? On me? Without telling me?_

Draco nodded his understanding. "So, we're sitting ducks." Ginny sucked her lower lip, anxious.

Harry spoke up, looking suddenly taller than he was. "We need to hide."

Draco sneered. "Not a suggestion your house would be proud of there, is it Potter?"

Harry shook his head in response. "We can fight when we find her, but we can't do anything until then, and we can't put too many people on her because she'll notice." He looked around the circle. "I know it's not going to be enjoyable, but it's the best chance to stay safe while she's out there."

Ginny agreed, catching onto his thoughts. "She's called us out. It implies that she's not going to attack a large group, or anyone other than us and possibly the people closest to us. Most of those people are under security already, at least for the three of us." She considered at the Malfoys, unsure who exactly they would need to protect. Draco shook his head and Hermione clenched her stomach. _You don't have anyone?_ "But we're all in a lot of danger. Right now- and it's not a permanent solution- we have to hide."

Hermione was surprised to see everyone approving. Draco and Narcissa exchanged a look that seemed to communicate their agreement. Draco looked sharply at Ginny. "And your organization has the ability to hide us?"

Ginny bit her lip, thinking quickly. "Yes. Yes, I think we can do it in a way that makes sense."

"How soon?" It was Harry, a soldier addressing his general.

"We can get everyone set up at safe houses...in a few days, I think." She noticed Draco's skeptical eyebrow raise. "We haven't needed safe houses for years, most people wouldn't be prepared, wouldn't have their wards up and portkeys set up. Give us a day or two." Harry and Draco nodded affirmatively and a calm set in.

Hermione thought of the screaming image in the paper. She reached up a hand to her arm, and an old memory of torturous strikes of pain echoed in her temples. She saw insane black eyes hovering above her, grinning grotesquely. "I'm not hiding." She kept her voice firm, even as it was quiet. Every face found hers, a variety of expressions overwhelming her. Even Narcissa looked alarmed. Draco looked livid. "I've been her victim once before. I'm not letting her do that to me again. You all hide, stay safe. Please. But I'm not letting her run my life."

Three mouths opened to protest simultaneously, but Hermione watched Narcissa's eyes, which seemed to glow with a mix of concern and pride. It reminded her of her own mother, and it warmed and encouraged her. With a look back at Ron and ignoring the three frustrated voices coming at her, Hermione walked out of the room and to the apparition point downstairs. She was determined not to be late for work.

* * *

She was an idiot. A stubborn, stupid, proud _idiot._ Draco stalked around his room and his home office, gruffly throwing things into a trunk and thinking of the stupidest girl he knew. Well, that wasn't true. She was the smartest witch in the Wizarding World. And talented. Maybe she could defend herself, but that _didn't matter._ She had refused, outright _refused_ to keep herself safe. Who does that?! Even the most obnoxious Gryffindors in the world, the Weasley girl and Potter even, had known enough to protect themselves. _What was her problem?!_

Worse than that, why was he _attracted_ to this idiotic decision? She had stalked out of that room, ignoring three yelling voices like they were nothing more than obnoxious photographers back when those three had been stalked by press. She had simply left, her quaint periwinkle pajama bottoms swishing with her determined walk, her sweater falling off her shoulder with the recklessness of a woman not paying attention to how she looks.

Thinking about that caramel shoulder and what it would be like to follow the flash of skin further down distracted him from packing. He absentmindedly grabbed a folder he wouldn't need no matter how long he was in hiding. How was he supposed to make sure she was safe if she refused to hide? How was he supposed to _know_ that she was okay, wasn't being stalked and captured by his monster of an aunt if he couldn't see her?! _Damn it Granger._

Draco had been doing a lot of thinking about this list of Bellatrix's. There were a few things that didn't add up. Targeting Potter? Naturally. Granger? Sure. But then, why not the third wheel of the "Golden Trio?" Why the sister? Why his mother, who had tolerated Voldemort and Bellatrix in her house for a year? He tried to remind himself that the woman in question wasn't exactly sane, and applying logic might not be actually useful, but the creeping feeling that he didn't have enough information, like a spider inching up his spine, wouldn't go away.

His old green Hogwarts trunk was now full of clothes, another case containing everything he needed to continue running a business while on the run. He scoffed to himself, laughing at how difficult that was going to be. Privately, in the little shining copper container in the corner of his mind, where Draco Malfoy allowed childish hope to live, he wondered if they would convince Granger to move to a safe house, and maybe, just maybe he would be under the same roof as that brave, beautiful idiot. The blond gritted his teeth and swallowed his vulnerabilities as he held tightly to his bags and apparated to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

* * *

Hermione could still remember the smell of muggle hospitals. Disinfectant, tile cleaner, the sugary bite of medicine. St. Mungo's, which carried all of the traumatic emphasis of the University Hospital near her parent's home, smelled the opposite. Upon walking in, Hermione could smell the cauldron fire and the muddy clay taste of Skele-Gro and the fruity wafts of strong herbal tea used to calm waiting patients and their families. It made the world feel smaller, she thought, to think that these two places, which served the same purpose and saw the same amount of suffering and relief, could be so unalike. Waving at the medi-witch at the front desk who had let her in just a few hours ago, Hermione found the door to the small room marked Private.

She assumed Ron would still be asleep, and had turned to make sure the door shut quietly when she heard his voice. "Mione?"

Even though she had known he was okay, his normal-sounding voice soothed her. "Hello Ron." Hermione walked over to his bedside, finding a chair near his head and leaned in to chastely kiss a cheek. _Too cold. Smells like hospital._ "How are you feeling?"

Ron smiled and Hermione prepared herself for an out-of-taste joke, but none came. "I'm not the one to be worrying about." He raised an eyebrow accusingly.

Choosing to ignore his harsh glare, Hermione busied herself with his blankets, peeking at the burns around his neck which didn't look much better than they had this morning. She avoided his eyes as she asked, "What are they putting on your burns?"

"Nothing. I haven't seen a medi-witch all day." Hermione sharply turned toward him, astonished and offended, but his face betrayed the joke. "There you are." He said, and she noticed the pain potion next to his bed. _Loopy Ron. Great._ "I miss you Hermione." Shaking her head as she knew how soppy he got when he was like this, Hermione let herself relax in their eye contact.

"I'm right here, Ron. I'm not going anywhere." A big part of her wanted to lay her body down. She wanted him to scoot himself over on the single-sized bed and let her hold him. She could breathe in the spicy, sleepy smell of him and rub her head against his muscular shoulders. Hermione wanted to take care of him, make him remember what safe feels like, and she wanted him to hold her, and remind her how to be brave. She wanted him to remind her that she was able to make the type of choice alone that he and Harry had been helping her make for so long. But after their breakup, which was really just the last of a hundred fights and the one that hadn't ended in both of them in her bed, she had promised herself not to go to him for comfort. Not like that. And if she laid down now, they would both be too close and too afraid to pull away from the other.

So she sat, and let her right hand graze his hairline, and let her weak smile hold all the sympathy and fear and love that she was feeling.

"You have to hide, Hermione." Ron spoke with his eyes closed as she let her fingers caress his tired, bruised face.

She had known it was coming. "Did Harry tell you to talk to me?"

"Ginny."

Hermione nodded, though he couldn't see. "I was afraid of her for so long, Ron. And then angry at myself for being afraid, and angry at her, for _so long._ "

"I know." His hand found the top of her thigh, and she met it with her left hand and squeezed as she continued.

"She took up so much space in my head. I feel like I just got that peace back." She hung her head, and they let a silence of understanding sit between them. "You would do the same thing."

Ron's eyes opened sharply and suddenly his warm hand was gone from hers. "No. I wouldn't." Hermione couldn't hide her surprise as he tried to sit up. "I wouldn't leave myself vulnerable when everyone I love was begging me to be safe. You're not thinking of us."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?! Ronald. I'm sure you don't mean that. I'm sure you wouldn't say that I have to go into hiding because _you_ asked me too."

She was reminded that was wasn't battling her old, immature, quick to anger, boyfriend Ron when he didn't even turn red. His face was calm. "I just don't want you to get… hurt." They seemed to mutually agree to stay away from more specific words they knew too well.

Hermione sighed. "If she wants to get to me, she will. But I'll be fine. As long as you all are safe…I need to know you lot will be okay. The only way she can really hurt me is hurting someone I love."

He looked down briefly at his broken body, then met her eyes with a clear message, his voice a murmur. "Why do you think I'm like this, Mione?"

Hermione felt her heart sink an inch and she couldn't hold his wild blue eyes any longer.

"She's out for you." He was insistent now.

"She's out for a lot of us."

He looked up at her, fierce. "No, Hermione. Harry read the list in order. You're her real target."

Hermione shook her head, denial, fear, and pride, battling it out in her mind.

"She told me." He could have been breathing loudly, not rasping out this new information. "Tell the…tell her she won't get away a second time." Hermione cringed, wishing she could run from this, from his words, from the situation. Run to forty-eight hours ago when the birds were singing and Bellatrix Lestrange was in prison.

Hermione clenched her teeth and her stomach and frowned with determination as she stood up. "I'll come by tonight. They shouldn't be releasing you until tomorrow at least."

Ron shook his head and looked at her like they were on even ground, as if he wasn't lying in a hospital bed smelling like salves and calming draught. "This afternoon. Ginny's decided to act as though I'm on the list too, at least for a while."

Hermione's mouth fell open before she remembered her determination and shut her lips together. "You're hiding too?" He nodded. "Good. I'll be glad to know you're safe." She leaned down and gave him another kiss on the cheek before she walked out, holding in her chest cavity the fear and loneliness she had come here to escape.

* * *

Harry had found a sturdy bright purple box in the Weasley's storage room/D.A. Headquarters to sit on. He had even checked that there was nothing inside sensitive to pressure or likely to explode inside. He wanted to sit out of the way, sitting on his hands if he must to remember that this was Ginny and Neville's show. He had the DMLE tracking Bellatrix and securing Azkaban and upping security around Hogwarts and the Ministry, and on top of the rest of the responsibilities that fell to the Investigative Department, that had pretty much exhausted their capacity.

Harry had gotten there an hour before the meeting time to see if they needed any help scrounging up safe houses, but Neville had shooed him into a corner, reminding him that it was for his own good to stay out of Ginny's way when she was working. It irked Harry when Neville talked about Ginny, though he suspected that the Herbology Professor dialed down how well he knew her around Harry. So, Harry sat in the corner, quiet, and wondered if Neville had any idea how amazing she was like this.

Ginny had pulled her long, straight hair up into a very sloppy bun that flopped around as she ran between parchments laid out on the table and owls that seemed to be constantly appearing in the window. She was gorgeous, her freckles dancing around her face as she grinned with little successes and frowned in focus in split second shifts. Harry watched as she bit her lip while she scribbled a note and chewed the inside of her cheek when she was waiting anxiously for the return of an owl.

There was a pop in the alley and Ginny checked her watch, muttering under her breath. Neville opened the door to let Malfoy in, rolling behind him his old Hogwarts trunk. Harry had forgotten how small those things actually were until he had been packing his own. Another cracking sound followed and a sore-looking Ron followed in. Malfoy looked surprised.

"He wasn't on the list." Malfoy sneered.

Ron pulled a face that looked like he would love to reach out and punch the shorter man, if it wouldn't have been too much of an effort on his still-healing body.

Ginny spoke out of the corner of her mouth, the rest taken up by a short quill, "he's no safer than you, Malfoy. We'll hide him at least for a few weeks, make sure that she's not going to double back. Plus, taking him would be the quickest way to hurt half of those of us that are on the list." She wrote as she spoke, and Harry wanted to laugh at her manic efficiency. Malfoy scoffed a reluctant agreement.

Neville looked up from one of the sheets on the table that Ginny had asked him to give a second glance. They communicated wordlessly, even physically running around each other in the small space without ever bumping into each other. They were like dancers, Harry thought, and remembered that they actually had been dancing partners once, back when Harry had been too stupid to see her. "Right." Ginny nodded at the tall, broad brunette who still wore the goofy, hesitant smile of a boy who had once been an outcast. She looked up at the three men hovering near their old school trunks. She giggled and Harry's blood thrilled. "You all look like overgrown Hogwarts students." Ron and Malfoy growled almost identically, making them both irritated and making Ginny laugh again.

"We're waiting for…" she checked her watch. "Still early. Good." She addressed Malfoy when she asked where his mother was.

Malfoy looked ready to be offended. "If she's not punctual she has a very good reason."

Ginny the General was short on words. "I'm sure she does, but we would like to get her somewhere safe as soon as possible."

Malfoy looked around the quiet room. "None of you were able to convince Granger?" He raised an eyebrow and Harry winced at the accusatory tone.

Neville piped up in his always-calm voice. "Not yet." He looked at Ginny and nodded comfortingly. "We will." Malfoy scoffed again.

Ginny checked her watch again, and Harry watched as the band holding her loose bun began to fall. "Right, well let's get some of you where you're going." She picked up one of the scattered pages and pointed to Ron. "Ron, we want you separate from everyone else, just in case she isn't after you at all." She looked up at his hurt expression and Harry noticed for the thousandth time the little similarities and differences in their faces. "You'll be able to visit, don't worry." Ron nodded and Ginny handed him a cloth bag that clearly held a small, solid object. "Here's your portkey. You're going to Hestia Jones' place. We'll re-evaluate for you in-" she checked a paper in front of her "two weeks." She checked her watch. "You leave in one minute, so, you know. Hug me."

Harry watched the two embrace, grinning at their inability to be tender as they each stuck a tongue out at the other. Ron nodded to Harry. "See you soon, mate." Harry returned the nod and gave Ron a gentle smile. The bag in Ron's hand began to glow blue and he poured out a glowing pygmy puff. With a skeptical glance to Ginny, Ron was gone.

Harry sighed and watched Ginny flutter about again, eyeing her watch like it might combust at any moment. "Okay. Malfoy. You're going to Shell Cottage." She glared at him with a dash of playfulness that Harry had to admire. Of course she would be able to look past history. She was just like that, quick to anger, quick to forgiveness.

"If your mom gets here we'll send her there too. May have to apparate her, we'll see. Might not be able to get another portkey managed." She reached out another bag and Malfoy took it carefully. Before she released it, Ginny glared at him. "Be nice to my brother." He snorted. She leaned in, pasting on a malicious grin. "And their kids."

Malfoy scowled, but the bag in his hand began to glow. With a vengeful squint at Ginny, he was gone.

Ginny sighed and Harry could see her crossing things off of a list that lived in her head. Her hair was loose now, the band lost somewhere on the floor. She looked at Neville. "You okay to check on Narcissa? If she's not at Malfoy Manor we have to worry, and if she is, then I'm going to have to have a few words with her about portkeys and how there's a bit of a timing component." Neville chuckled and nodded at her, then at Harry before he exited towards the alley where he could apparate.

It took Harry too long to realize that it was now just Ginny and him. No owls fluttering in and out, no D.A. members or fugitives besides themselves, no sun, even, as he saw it setting in the window behind her. Harry immersed himself in the view of her, auburn red hair falling to its natural straight line, lips swollen from her nervous biting, bright brown eyes glued right on him. He could feel her cool gaze on his shoulders and chest and the mess of pitch black hair she used to put her whole hand in under various circumstances.

Harry knew Ginny. He knew she was loving this tense silence. Even if she wasn't flashing back to blush-worthy memories the way he was, she loved a good dramatic scene. He, however, wanted to stutter them into any kind of conversation, or perhaps run from the building.

Ginny broke the staring contest to look down at her papers and watch. Harry wanted to tear the watch off of her and remind her that the best things take patience and do not require quills. "Alright, Harry. Your portkey is in a few minutes then." She looked up at him, obviously instructing him to grab his things and move towards her.

"Oh. Er. Right. I remember." She quirked an eyebrow at him and he could feel her reading his mind. There was only one reason he would act completely normally around her yesterday and be fifteen years old again now. _She sees right through you, Potter._ He followed her unsaid instructions and she turned his body towards him as he approached her side, feeling even lankier and paler than usual.

Ginny grinned. "Don't you want to know where you're going?"

He could smell that flowery shampoo and the slightly sweaty, sunny smell of a girl who flew or ran every morning, a girl who wanted to be outside and wanted to work hard at everything she did. Harry decided not to answer, at least then he was less likely to say something stupid. Instead he leaned into his height and looked down at her with the few inches difference he had and tried to make his eyes say…something. Something that would make her blush. Harry was astonished when it worked, then immediately brought down to reality when the pinches of pink that briefly grew underneath her freckles disappeared and she scowled, moving her eyes back to the table abruptly. "You're going to Seamus' farm. Up in Ireland." She shuffled a few papers, though it looked like it was just to keep her eyes and hands busy. "Hermione will join you if…when she sees sense."

Harry held out his hand. Ginny just looked at it, then up at him. She opened her mouth and lifted a hand of her own, moving towards it. "Portkey?" The miniature blush returned and Harry had to curl his toes to keep from smiling. A cloth bag began glowing the minute it was in his hand. "Thanks, Gin."

* * *

Ginny sat at the first chair available to her. Her brain had been going a mile a minute for a day and a half, arranging safe houses. Surely that was the only reason Harry had gotten to her just now. Exhaustion and duress made anyone browse the body of an ex-boyfriend, right? _Right._ She felt the back of her neck, hot for reasons she would prefer to ignore. She wanted to put it up, but couldn't find the band that usually lived on her right wrist. _Damn._

She began to go over that checklist that lived in her head. Narcissa Malfoy, unchecked. Hermione, unchecked. Getting herself to her safe house, unchecked. Was she forgetting something? Article filed, check. Talked to her editor, check. Ginny could feel her blood pressure rising again. _Count to ten, Gin. 1..2..3..4..5..6.._

Neville burst into the door before she could hit 10. "Ginny!" He ran to her and the part of her brain that paid attention to these foolish things noticed that he was standing exactly where Harry had been a moment earlier, and there was certainly an irony in that, which she was used to. Yet now, no hot neck. _God bless Neville._ "Ginny. She's back."

"What? Back? Bellatrix?" Ginny's eyebrows rose, alarmed and confused simultaneously.

Neville nodded and Ginny noticed the parchment in his hand. "Oh god." She closed her eyes. "Go ahead."

Neville read slowly. "My darling sister will not be leaving her home. It was good enough for Our Dark Lord, and so it should be good enough for her." He paused and Ginny opened her eyes, finding the fear and challenge in his eyes. "It was on the gate. I couldn't get any further, the wards are…" he shook his head. "They're the most powerful that I've ever felt at least."

Ginny covered her mouth with her hand. _7...8…9…10. Go._ She charged up the stairs, Neville following behind. "George! I need to use your fireplace thanks!" She yelled at no one before spelling the door unlocked and running to the little grate on the wall. "Malfoy Manor!"

Narcissa's flawless face appeared in the flames only a moment later. "Miss Weasley, thank goodness you called." Ginny wanted to laugh at the woman's proper behavior under the most extreme circumstances.

"Mrs. Malfoy, are you alright? Are you safe? Are you alone?"

Narcissa's green-flame face nodded. "Yes. Yes, I understand that I'm locked in by my…sister."

"Yes. You sure no one is there with you? You're not hurt?" Ginny wished desperately that they had been smart enough to develop some sort of code. She needed to know if Narcissa was alone, and there was no real way to be sure if Bellatrix was in the room telling her what to say.

"No, dear. I'm not hurt. I'm perfectly fine." She giggled the most sophisticated, adult laugh Ginny had ever heard. It was like a flute. "I just can't leave my home. It's really not the worst form of torture, I'm not sure what she's trying to get at. Is Draco safe?"

Here was her opening. "Yes, he's fine. He's at a safe house in London. A place you're probably familiar with, now that I think of it. Grimmauld Place, old Order of the Phoenix Headquarters back when they were active." Narcissa nodded, no alarm present in her eyes. All Ginny had to do was look at Neville and he was off, calling a few soldiers and keeping eyes on the completely empty Grimmauld Place. They would know if Bellatrix was at Malfoy Manor.

"Mrs. Malfoy?"

"My…husband is in prison, dear. Why don't you call me Narcissa?" Ginny paused. That felt oddly comfortable. _Polyjuice? She wouldn't have had enough time to brew it…_ "If you're going to be keeping my family safe, Miss Weasley." Ginny nodded slowly, vaguely recalling an old pure-blood belief revolving around that. Something ridiculous about chivalry and knights.

"Of course, Narcissa. If you'll call me Ginny." Narcissa nodded primly.

"Mrs….Narcissa. We're going to need your help getting you out of there. Can you do a bit of homework for me?"

Narcissa sighed but Ginny saw, through the flames, a light in her eyes. "I suppose I'm going to have to find something to do around here."

"Great. I don't know much about your sister. To get you out, I need to know every ward you think she might know of. Be sure to check your library as well. And if you could just make a list of…"

Narcissa cut her off. "Everything I know about her?"

Ginny laughed, finding her own laugh sounding more feminine to match the situation. _It's like we're having tea or something._ "Exactly. One more thing. Do you know how to make a corporeal patronus?"

Narcissa nodded. "I do, dear." Ginny was impressed by the woman for what felt like the tenth time in as many minutes.

"Great. If you just need to talk, and when you're able to get some of that work done, we can owl. If somehow, she cuts you off from that you can always call The Burrow, and my mom will get ahold of me. If there's an emergency, if Bellatrix shows up, if you're hurt, send your patronus."

"Wonderfully thought out."

Ginny blushed. "Right then. Stay safe."

Narcissa left the fire first.

Ginny sat back on the ground, letting her heart rate slow again. Narcissa, check (sort of). Grimmauld Place diversion, check. Get to safe house, uncheck. Ginny shook with realization. Bellatrix had been at Malfoy Manor only a few hours ago, sometime between Malfoy leaving early and Narcissa trying to leave on time. And if she wasn't there now, she could be anywhere. Hermione…uncheck.

* * *

 **A/N: Ack! Totally meant to post this yesterday in honor of Draco's birthday. Thanks for reading! Review and let me know what you think! And hello to all the beautiful followers reading!**


	3. Chapter 3: Arrangements

Draco could feel the sea on his skin. He thought his skin must taste like salt, and his usually straight hair had a wave to it. He had only been at Shell Cottage for a few hours before he had needed a break from the overwhelmingly pastel interior and three overly energetic children. Bill Weasley was fine, for a Weasley, though a bit severe, and he remembered Fleur Delacour from school and was grateful once more that the Malfoys had cast an anti-veela curse on themselves centuries ago. The two little ones were loud, sure, but the seven-year-old girl had revealed herself as a demon of mischief within ten minutes of Draco's arrival when she found a way to open his case, find an exhaustive stack of notes on a new trade deal he had been negotiating with a witch's colony in Indonesia, and turn them into a flurry of paper butterflies that then crumbled into a pile of shreds on the floor. When he (justifiably, he thought) yelled at her, she burst into tears and screamed into the arms of her mother.

So Draco had begged pardon for a walk on the beach, going so far as to take off his shoes and roll up his trousers to keep the sand damage to a minimum. He was doing his level best to think about nothing. Not his mother and why she hadn't arrived yet, or his business and how to manage the multiple meetings he had scheduled for this week, or his crazy homicidal aunt. And he was absolutely not thinking about Granger, that he at least had practice at.

Draco was actively not thinking about Granger when the little girl whose pale hair rivaled his own, was running down the small hill that separated the house from the beach. "Mister Malfoy! Mister Malfoy!" He chuckled despite himself and began to trek up towards the girl.

"Yes? What is it?"

Victoire stopped, as though she had forgotten her message.

"Is my mother here?" Draco leaned down to her level. "Is Mrs. Malfoy here?"

The girl shook her head just once, her long hair whipping behind her back.

"Are you sure?"

One nod.

Draco took a deep breath, reminding himself to be patient with other people's children as much as he possible could. "Shall we go up to the house and make sure then?"

The girl frowned at his persistence in doubting her, but eventually shrugged her agreement. Draco was startled when she grabbed his hand with her miniature one and insisted that they walk in step. Draco could just imagine any of the Weasleys watching him take half-steps to keep up with the little girl. He rolled his eyes at the lack of dignity.

Sure enough, when they reached the house Ginny Weasley was standing with her hands on her hips and a smug look of amusement on her face. "Well this is just darling, Malfoy. I hope you don't mind if I took a few photos for the _Prophet."_

Draco gave her his best scowl, then looked at the little girl as she broke from his hand and ran inside with a nonsensical yell. "What is it, Weasley? And where is my mother, I thought you said she'd be placed here?"

Ginny's face fell.

Draco felt his heart slow. "What. Happened."

Later, Draco would remember the demeanor that took over the girl who used to follow around Harry Potter like a bashful shadow. In a second, she was a General. "Malfoy, she's fine. She's safe, we think. I just spoke to her."

"But."

She nodded once. "But. Bellatrix has found a way to, well, imprison her in her own home."

"She's at the Manor?"

"Yes. She's alone, and she's safe." Ginny squared her jaw and put a hand on his shoulder. "We're going to keep an eye on her, and we're going to get her out."

Draco nodded once, feeling suddenly childish and unable to think quickly.

"Malfoy." She brought his attention back to her. "Bellatrix had the chance to hurt her and she didn't. That's a good thing."

 _The chance._ Draco felt his brain switch on. "She was there. There were ten minutes between when I left and when she planned to." Ginny just nodded, rubbing her lips together and letting him catch up. "What about Granger?"

Draco watched Ginny grow bemused and it took him another second to realize what he had said. Drawing the ice back to his gray eyes, Draco stiffened his body and tensed his chin. "If she's still playing that idiot Gryffindor card, she's putting the rest of us in danger. I won't have _her_ be the reason my mother is any more vulnerable." He watched Ginny's brows draw back and knew he had recovered himself.

Ginny nodded. "She's my next stop." She turned to see Bill Weasley behind her.

Draco watched the siblings embrace each other sentimentally and he turned back towards the beach.

"Aunty Ginny says it's very scary." The little voice next to him shook him out of a fog without thoughts.

The stiffness in his spine kept him upright, and his eyes were stuck on the darkening sea, but he didn't pull away when the child's hand grabbed his.

* * *

Ginny hadn't slept since Harry had read out that list, which had also been in the middle of the night, which made it about two? No three. No. Ginny checked her watch uselessly. She didn't know how many days it had been, or many uninterrupted minutes she had gotten before being called to St. Mungo's. So when she dragged herself up to Hermione's office and found her friend in full work robes, acting as if nothing was any stranger than it had been last week, even wearing lipstick for god's sake, Ginny was considerably annoyed.

"Neville beat you to it."

Ginny hadn't even had the chance to knock on the open door's frame and Hermione hadn't even lifted her head before she tried to pass her off. Ginny watched her scratch away at one parchment while reading another and admired her friend. Hermione had been born to be a grown-up, she thought. Ginny still wished she was allowed to run around and play for half of the day, her brothers had kids or played with dragons for a living, even Harry still wore trainers to work. But as soon as Hermione had been given an office and a purpose, and the license to drink a glass of goblin wine if she liked, she had really come into her own. Ginny wasn't the only one who had noticed that Hermione walked taller and had control of her body now, channeling that frantic intelligent energy from childhood into action and poise. Ginny had watched plenty of men see the same thing.

Hermione finally looked up and waved her wand at the door to close it behind Ginny. "He already told me about Narcissa." Well, her shock and scare approach wouldn't work.

Ginny sighed deeply, hanging her head. "Hermione. You've got to…"

"I don't have to do anything, Gin. In fact, I'll be more helpful out here, where I can go to the library and research and help Narcissa."

Ginny tilted her head and squinted. "You call her Narcissa?" Her voice had grown higher; she had forgotten to be in General mode.

"She told me to once."

"You talked to her outside of this mess?" Ginny embraced the idea that they were just gossiping at this point. Maybe it would soften her up.

"Mhmm. A couple of times during the House Elf Labor Standards mess, she was quite helpful. She's actually very-"

"Lovely, isn't she?!" The women chorused, then laughed.

"I don't understand how she gave birth to Malfoy!" Ginny giggled.

Hermione shrugged. "He's not as bad as he used to be, at least."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "You and Harry both, what is this world coming to?"

Hermione laughed again, and Ginny found her opening. "Although…seeing him, just now, on the beach with little Victoire?" Ginny put her hands on her heart and made a small sound of approval. "It was upsettingly adorable. All of that blonde." Ginny forced a giggle.

Hermione's face stayed confident and unaffected. "You put him with Bill, then?" Ginny nodded, giving up her façade of girlishness. "And Harry?"

Ginny frowned and crossed her arms over her, which made her remember how hard it was to stand on tired feet. "Wouldn't you like to know." Hermione's dark brown eyes were scary when she wanted them to be, and Ginny caved too soon, blaming her insomnia. "Seamus' farm."

Hermione nodded quietly, thoughtfully, and stood up to move around the desk and approach Ginny. The darker girl, shorter even in a pair of low heels, embraced Ginny, holding her in tightly. Ginny felt the dam of exhaustion and fear break inside of her as she hid her face in Hermione's chest, and she let a few tears fall. "You need sleep, Gin. Even Generals need sleep."

Ginny pulled her face away, shining wet tear stains ruining what would have been the kind of boyish, stoic plea that usually worked on Hermione. "I don't understand, Hermione. Is it just your pride?" Ginny felt the childish loss of a parent's hug when Hermione pulled her arms away and held them tight to her own body.

Hermione pulled her bottom lip into her mouth and Ginny watched the familiar sight of wheels turning in Hermione's brain. Hermione's eyes fell to the floor, then flew back up to meet Ginny's, and she saw a flicker of something brilliant in them. Her voice was quiet and thrilling when she spoke. "What if it is Ginny? Just my pride."

The grin that stretched across Ginny's face at a glacial pace could have been the ghost of Fred Weasley himself. She was thinking of every time Harry, Ron, or even she had done something just for their pride and Hermione had stood by them, defended them, or dug them out of the hole of trouble they would inevitably get themselves into. Well, she was owed one. "I think we can all understand that." Hermione's relieved grin was her reward.

"However." Ginny drew together the last grains of authority she had left in her and straightened out her back, broadening her shoulders. She took two cloth bags out of her pocket and held out one of them. "Just in case you change your mind. Here's a portkey, to Seamus'. It's set for 10pm." Hermione looked at her questioningly, as though she had been lying about her support. "I did it before I got here, I thought I'd be able to convince you. Just take it, for my sanity? And if you ever change your mind you can always…."

Hermione didn't let her finish. "use the coin, call the Burrow, I know, Gin." She took the cloth bag out of Ginny's hands and made a show out of putting it into her cloak pocket. "Thank you. Really." Ginny very nearly fell asleep in the second hug.

* * *

Harry had spent all afternoon filling out paperwork while a beautiful Irish day played out in front of his eyes. Seamus had come in for dinner sweaty from work outside, making Harry seethe with envy at the grass stains on his robes. Seamus' entire family lived on the spacious green hills that made up their property. Harry soon discovered that Mrs. Finnegan's shepherd's pie was even better than Mrs. Weasley's, though he would never tell a single redhead his new opinion. Seamus' muggle half-sister, Sara, looked eerily like him, from the scattered freckles to the out of control eyebrows and scattered faint scars, which made Harry wonder if she was as accident prone as her younger brother.

The four of them were at the table after a lengthy catholic grace Harry felt awkwardly bad at, digging into the very local meat when Ginny appeared into the kitchen with a CRACK. Startled, Harry nearly yelled at her in greeting. "Oi! What are you doing here?"

Seamus looked up at Harry's shout, confused. "Whardoyuhmean?" Seamus swallowed, looking behind him where she stood. "Oh, hey Ginny. She's staying here, mate."

"Did I forget to mention that, Potter?" Ginny's roguish smile actually made Harry forget to breathe for a second, and suddenly he was choking on a piece of bread. Sara slapped him on the back with a force that made Harry suspect she may be able to lift and toss him like a bale of hay.

"Sit down, dear. Have some supper, we've just begun." Mrs. Finnegan swished around her wand to conjure a plate with a heaping serving and set it at an empty space next to her.

"Thank you, Mrs. Finnegan, but I actually need to speak to Harry and Seamus about a few things." Seamus and Harry both went to stand, but a glare from the older witch made all three of them find their seat.

Ginny took a heavy breath the moment she sat and, with a look to the woman, performed a silent grace over her food before digging in. Mrs. Finnegan looked impressed and approving as Harry wondered how she had known to do so. He noticed that Ginny didn't carry a trunk behind her, only a large bag, and had shadowy circles under her eyes that reminded him of how she looked in her first year. "Everybody get to their place alright then?" Seamus asked, but Harry could sense the answer in Ginny's sagging posture.

Ginny shook her head, shooting both boys a glare.

After dinner, Seamus led both of them into what Harry assumed would be Ginny's bedroom. The uncomfortable looking twin bed had obviously been Sara's, though Harry suspected she hadn't exactly loved the pink quilts and frilly pillows. Ginny looked at the mattress with longing, but remained standing, while Seamus straddled a chair too small for a full-grown man and Harry found the edge of the bed.

She began with a sigh. "Well, first things first- Hermione still hasn't budged, but she's got a portkey linked here for later tonight so I'm holding out some hope." Harry nodded, solemn.

Seamus surprised them both with a smirk. "Stubborn lass, got to admire her a bit for that, you have."

Ginny matched him with another glare, but Harry caught a Weasley-like agreement in her eyes. "Well…she's done so against orders. Narcissa's been imprisoned in Malfoy Manor." The men looked at her with sudden alarm. "She's okay, she's safe as far as she's been able to communicate to me, but we'll still be trying to get her out, obviously." She looked at Harry and the pleading mixed into her authoritative expression worried him. "She's doing research on the wards, and so is Hermione, but we could use some Aurors posted around there if you've got them to spare."

Harry grimaced but nodded. "Azkaban has to stay our priority, if you do think she's safe, but yeah I've got a few."

"I'm alright with trainees if they have to be, I'm pretty sure Bellatrix would have hurt her already if she wanted to. I think this is just her flexing her muscle a bit, showing us she's out there and she's not messing around."

Seamus' eyebrows rose. "What else do you need from us, Ginny?" Harry had never liked seeing Seamus acting seriously.

"You've done plenty putting us up, Seamus…"

"But?" He grinned, Ginny answered with a smirk, and Harry felt a little relief at the return to normal personalities.

"We're going to need curse breakers. You, Bill, and I think Ernie are a good team to start. Just throw everything you've got at the wards around the Manor. I'll get the three of you together with Narcissa tomorrow if they can spare you here."

Seamus smiled with glee. "Need help destroying something, did you say?" He winked at her and stood to leave, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Sleep, Weasley. You look like hell." Ginny stuck her tongue out at him, but Harry watched her lean her shoulder into his hand.

And suddenly Harry and Ginny were in a bedroom alone. Harry watched Ginny rest her forehead into her hands, running her hands down her own face, in a show of stress Harry had seen every Weasley perform. He let his voice stay soft. "Sit down, Gin." She hesitated, but didn't argue. Harry watched her athletic body drag itself next to him. His heart beat a single loud beat when she sat next to him and put her head onto his shoulder.

"You're warm." Her voice was muffled and sleepy. Harry guessed that her eyes were closed.

* * *

Hermione stayed at the office until she had nothing else she could get accomplished. She wanted to pretend that everything was completely normal, as if she was insisting to an invisible Bellatrix that she wasn't even thinking about her. It didn't work. She triple checked that Ginny's portkey was in her bag. She walked all the way to the lift before she decided to go back and confirm that she had locked her office, which she always did even absentmindedly. Deciding to pigheadedly walk the four blocks to her flat even though she usually apparated to the alley beside the building, she walked taller than necessary, but kept her hand in her pocket, holding her wand at the ready the entire way home.

Once inside her building, she breathed a sigh of relief and wiped a bit of cool sweat from her forehead, blaming the humid night and not her anxiety. She trekked up the stairs, feeling the tension in her body challenge her breathing. It took her two tries to open her door, the key sticking in the lock. Walking in, she immediately called for Crookshanks as she set her bag on the two-person couch sat near her overstuffed bookshelf. As the kneazle came padding towards her, she knelt down to pick him up, and that was when she saw the footprints. The bare, human footprints were scattered across the floor, accompanied by what had to be Crookshanks' paw prints. Hermione couldn't quite tell what the thick, dark prints were made from, but it looked like chocolate…or…shit? Picking him up, she hesitantly sniffed him, relieved to find the substance that coated his feet and belly to, in fact, be mud.

Hermione tried to remember if it had rained, but she had been indoors all day, obstinately staying in her office. But it had been sunny this morning, and clear tonight. Hermione chastised herself for the slow pace at which her mind was working. Reaching out for something to blame for it, she settled on Ron's scare a few nights ago. She dropped the cat and attempted to step around the mess of mud as she investigated where it might have come from. It covered most of the hallway and, yes, the little white tile bathroom. She groaned internally at that, even with magic there would be remnants in the cracks of the tile for a month. As she padded carefully to her bedroom at the back of the flat, Hermione prayed to no one she believed in that she had left a window open, it had somehow rained, and that Crookshanks had brought in an impossible amount of dirt.

Her bed was gone. So was the little bedside table where she kept a glass of water and at least one book. Her grandmother's dresser. The framed photos and her mother's painting. There was a piece of parchment pinned to the far wall where the head of her bed would be. Her breathing painful in her throat and too shallow to get enough oxygen to her brain, Hermione walked forward, hoping there was nothing on it, hoping there was a simple explanation, hoping she was losing her mind. The parchment was soft in her hands, the script not at all rushed.

 _Run, Mudblood, so I can chase you._

The moment Hermione stepped away from the wall, she felt her feet slip. The floor began to rise. Looking down, she found the entire room filling with mud. Before she had a chance to panic, the rising sludge stopped, but she was forced to step out of her shoes, the mud up to her ankles. Her own feet now bare, she felt the mud dry quickly, forming a slick crust. Crookshanks appeared in the doorway, lifting a paw to join his human, and it broke her. Hermione fell to the earthy ground, still holding the note, and let herself weep.

With a choking voice, Hermione Accio'd her bag, checked her pocket watch, and found that she had only ten minutes until the portkey would be active. Later, Hermione wouldn't be able to put herself in the mindset of that night. She blocked it out. She would never again feel as helpless as she had when she lay her side down on the cursed mud and waited, the portkey in one hand and her wand in the other, hot tears streaming down her cheeks, wetting the dirt beneath her.

* * *

Draco cleared a space in the spare room that had been created by putting all three of the children in one bedroom. Setting himself on the softened from salt air wooden flooring, he folded his legs atop each other and perfected his general straight posture. He began to create the clear space in his mind, sweeping incoming thoughts to the side. He made himself to remember the cold, forceful fog of a Legilimens forcing his way into the space and practiced building his fence up to keep it out. Breathing his way through his practice, Draco fielded thoughts of his mother, Bellatrix, the new Ingredient Importation Regulations, the bronzed dips and muscles in Hermione Granger's neck. The fog seeped in and he collected and blocked it again, forgetting his breath. He felt his heart rate dip, and swept that thought to the side. He was pushing aside a vague memory of listening to his father negotiate a business deal when the distinct thick clunk of a person landing from a portkey interrupted his breath.

He opened his eyes, unsure of the reality of the sound, and focused on hearing, feeling his clear mental space broaden with the effort. Crying. Not a child's. Clear and physical. Downstairs. In a moment he was stepping quietly down the stairs that led to the small living room. His mouth opened with shock. It was her. Collapsed, but breathing. Covered in mud. Weeping. Draco paused, feeling very much that he was intruding on an intimate moment, wishing for the first time that Potter was nearby and could take care of this. But he wasn't.

He kept his voice even. "Granger?"

A whimper answered him. He could see the hardening crust coating her curls and forming patches on her bare feet.

"Do you know where you are?" Her weeping stopped with a hiccup, then continued, quieter, slower.

"You're at Shell Cottage." No response. He couldn't leave her here, in the living room. He could call for help…no, the Weasleys had hardly gotten their children and themselves to bed an hour ago. He could…he would help her. He clenched his jaw, remembering always his mask of invulnerability, but he approached her, bending closer to her level.

"I'm going to try to help you. You. Um. You need a bath Granger." She hiccupped again, and barely moved her head in a nod. "Good. Do you trust me?"

Silence. Her eyes opened, bloodshot, staring up at him. The lustrous darkness of them finding his own steel pupils. Another imperceptible nod. Draco caught a shallow breath in his chest and looked down at his white undershirt and sweatpants. Right, then. More unsure than he had been since his trial so many years ago, Draco fell to his knees and put his arms around her. Unbelievably, she let him. Impossibly, she put her arm around his neck to assist. Unbearably, she set her muddied face against his chest. He could feel his heart speeding, as if it could beat itself out of his chest and reach her.

He tucked his arm beneath her legs, amazed at her shortness and the balance of her body. Going up the stairs was slow, but they reached the bathroom, and he set her on her feet. She wobbled, and he caught her, helping her crumble to the floor. "Okay Granger. Now, you may have to help me a bit here." A trembling lip, another nod. Slowly, she lifted her arms. "Wonderful." He wondered if he had ever said the word without sarcasm before. With shaking fingers, he unbuttoned her robe, then pulled it off her arms. He found a blouse underneath, flimsy and gray. Hermione was silent as he unbuttoned the silver buttons and peeled it off, finding her brown arms underneath. Draco considered the undershirt and bra. No mud on them. Finding her face again, he told her, not expecting any response, "you can take those off once you're in the shower if you like." There was no nod. The eyes that had communicated with him a few minutes ago had gone dead again.

Closing his eyes and muttering "please don't hate me in the morning", he wrapped his arms around her, feeling the heat of her skin and smelling the combination of dirt and tears and snot. He lifted her up, setting her against the wall. "Put your hands on my shoulder, Granger." Draco wondered if this was the most intimate thing he had ever done as he unzipped her skirt and pulled it down, finding simple gray silk underwear he would never forget. He stood back. "Well, that'll have to do then. Can you stand for a minute?" She thought. Hard, it seemed like, and took her hands from his shoulders, which he was sure were blushing along with the rest of him.

Keeping his eyes on her, he turned on the shower. She flinched at the sound. He brought it to an easy warmth and reached out his hand, seeing if she could walk the few steps to him. When she did, he sighed with relief, and something in the back of his mind made the innocent move meaningful. "Alright. Two steps." Her hand was soft, holding his so tightly it almost hurt. She leaned most of her weight into him as she climbed into the tub. Hermione Granger looked back at him, pleading for something he didn't understand. "Hold onto that rail there." He watched her black tank top stick to her as it became wet. Every gentlemanly part of him fought not to look at the silk underthings growing slightly transparent. She gripped the rail.

Later, Draco would wish that he had taken longer to use the bar of soap to clear her soft body of any filthy remnants. But her grip on his shoulder was iron, her tears silently falling with the water, wetting his hair. He looked her over, making sure he hadn't missed any. She had kept her face out of the stream of water, and there was still mud on her cheeks. She needed to wash her face. "Can you wash your face, Granger?" She didn't move.

Draco swallowed and rubbed some of the soap onto his hands. Taking his knee off of the edge of the tub was a relief, but it was hard to stand on his stiff leg. With an agonizing tenderness, he rubbed his thumbs over her dusty forehead, across her tear-stained cheeks, down her chin and neck. She lifted her head when he softly rubbed her temples with suds. Collecting water with cupped hands, he washed the soap off of her, careful to avoid soap in her eyes.

He noticed that she stopped crying. The light in her eyes was back. They found his, and he somehow stayed upright. He turned her around and found a bottle of children's shampoo on the shower shelf. He was surprised at how easy it was to run his hands down the hair that lengthened as the curls stretched. Wincing at the dirty brown of the mud washing out of it, Draco washed her hair. His whole body reacted when she let out a little moan as he rubbed her scalp. When he turned her back around, she was clean, tendrils of black hair curling around her eyes. "You're alright." The sound of his voice seemed to surprise her, and she teetered. "Can you walk?"

She needed his arm and the walk was slower than his steps with Victorie that morning, but she made it to his room. Finding his wand, Draco cast a drying charm on her wet clothes. Draco realized he didn't know where the other spare room was, and the only other door in the hallway was the children's room. Pulling back the blankets and helping tuck her legs into the bed, he was struck at how much she had trusted him with her body, and with her broken mind. _So much for my casual fascination._ When she curled towards him and closed her eyes, her hand still in his, he let out an involuntary groan of tenderness towards her.

Draco tiptoed back to the bathroom and tidied, _Scourgifying_ her dirty clothes. He went downstairs and spelled away the drippings of mud. He hadn't realized she had brought her bag. When he picked it up, a paper fluttered down to the floor. It must have been stuck to the purse, or in her hands when she landed. It took everything in him to keep from lighting his Aunt's handwriting on fire.

* * *

 **A/N: Finally got someone close to naked at least! ;) Thanks for Reviewing! It really encourages me!**


	4. Chapter 4: Traitor

Hermione woke up to the rush of the sea and the heat of too many quilts, her mind still stuck in her previous dream. Moving her fingers and grunting at the heat, she slowly became more aware of her current reality. A look down made her recognize little Victoire Weasley's blankets and, in the corner, the stuffed rabbit Ron had gotten her for her last birthday. So, she was at Shell Cottage then. Not Seamus' farm. Okay…Ginny must have given her the wrong portkey. Why did she used the portkey at all….? Hermione gasped as she remembered her apartment, the note, the skin crawling sense of Bellatrix having been in her home. She could have taken her if she had decided to, and the fact that she had left a threat instead made Hermione feel like one of the bugs that Crookshanks would trap and play with before finally devouring. Hermione rolled over and curled tightly into herself. And found Draco Malfoy sleeping silently on the floor beside her.

 _Oh my God._

The end of the previous night flooded back to her. The shower. Lifting the sheets, she peeked at her very minimal clothing and her jaw dropped. _That little pervert!_ She looked over at the man. Just as she had wondered, he looked like the sweet six-year-old she was sure he had never been. His lips puckered out a bit, his dark blonde eyelashes resting on those severe cheekbones. His arms were folded around each other and he looked surprisingly comfortable on a single blanket on the floor, covered with a child sized sheet that left the top half of his chest revealed. Hermione caught her breath at the pale muscles scattered with more scars than even Harry had. _What are those from…_ Her eyes crawled back up to his face and she found his smoky eyes open, almost blue in the morning light and watching her.

On instinct, Hermione shut her eyes, but his soft chuckle told her she had been too late.

He spoke without moving, his voice sure and low. "How are you feeling?"

"Did you…undress me?" The scratchiness of her voice surprised her.

The blush on his cheeks shocked her, and she bit back a smile. "I'm sorry, you…you needed to wash. You weren't really…responding."

Hermione gave this some real thought. She hadn't been alert. She could only imagine how much mud had been on her. Had she really laid down in it? When she looked back to him, she found him sitting up against the little white dresser, still half draped in the sheet, his hair poking up in wispy spikes, his chest bare and hard, watching her think.

"I didn't see anything. What you have on…I mean… that all stayed on in the shower."

Hermione's eyes widened at the mention of the shower. His hands in her hair, his shoulders her only support as he lathered her bare legs. His fingers rubbing away the dirt on her face. Now she was the one blushing. So deeply she could feel it in her neck. Uncomfortable lying there while he was at least upright, she sat up, pulling the quilts with her, despite the heat. Raising herself up was oddly difficult.

"You're probably going to be sore."

She looked at him accusingly. _What did you do…_

He raised a single eyebrow, then lowered it and looked down at his hands, nervously fidgeting in his sheet-covered lap. "You were in a state of trauma, Granger. It tenses up your body. You could barely walk."

Hermione wanted to cry and she wasn't sure why. Relief? Anger? Fear? But Draco Malfoy, of all people, was sitting across from her half-naked. She swallowed the unborn tears.

"Do you remember what happened before you got here?" His question made her shut her eyes. _Yes, but I don't want to._

Hermione took another hard look at him. Draco was on Bellatrix's list. He had proven himself to Harry. He barely looked like the teenaged bully he had once been, his features softened with age and, she suspected, grief. He looked like a different man altogether, one she was almost comfortable around _._ She wondered if she could divide the past from his current self, the one watching her with the intense look she had often given Harry when he still had Voldemort in his head, or Ron when he had fits of missing Fred. _Sympathy._

"She was in my apartment." She waited for his shock, but there was none on his face. A flash of anger, she thought. "She covered my bedroom in mud." Hermione forced herself to keep her eyes open, to start addressing this as the problem to be solved that it was. "She left a note, too." As she realized she didn't know what had happened to the terrible piece of parchment, he lifted it half-heartedly.

She gave in and closed her eyes and said it again, out loud, because she hadn't done so last night. "She was there."

When she opened her eyes, Draco was standing up, moving to find his trousers, and she would swear that she did not ogle his boxers, or the dark blonde happy trail that led into them.

"I'll go ask Fleur if she has some clean clothes you can borrow. We have to talk to Potter and Weasley."

He threw on a black t-shirt that had been near him on the floor and ran a hand through his white hair. She wondered if it was soft. When he left the room, Hermione groaned. There was too much happening in her head.

* * *

 _1..2..3..4..5..6…_ Ginny needed to reach ten before she reacted to Hermione's news. _Damn it._ Bellatrix was at Malfoy Manor, and in Hermione's apartment. So how was she moving around without being recognized? Where was she staying? How was the most famous murderer short of Voldemort himself moving around and where was she going? Ginny agonized with the inability to predict the insane woman's next move.

Setting down the long letter that had arrived via Bill's owl not ten minutes ago, Ginny turned to look at Harry. He had been reading over her shoulder, his warm, English Breakfast Tea breath clouding her thoughts. Now he was ashen, his green eyes calculating something, not looking at her the way she was (yet knew she shouldn't be) accustomed to. He was fifteen and scared and angry all over again. _God, he was beautiful._

Reaching out to set a hand on his shoulder, Ginny shook him. "Oi. Potter. You got a plan yet?" _There they were._ His eyes found her again as they gestured for her to sit at the empty kitchen table.

"First thing's got to be the tracking. We have to find her."

Ginny nodded, her mind shifting into a productive, happy gear. Harry wasn't Neville, they didn't basically share one brain, but it was sometimes better this way. They had separate armies, they could have differing opinions, but they built off of each other. "Agreed. Let's both check in with our trackers today." He nodded. "I want to talk to Narcissa today, see if she's come up with any research that can help us."

"Ask her about Bellatrix's favorite places, as a kid or whatever. Voldemort was sentimental, maybe she is too."

Dynamically pointing, nudging, and talking over each other, their brainstorming was almost physical. "That's a good point. We should be checking some of Voldemort's places. Anywhere he used to meet with her. We can't forget her obsession with him."

"Definitely. Have you checked with Neville about your Grimmauld diversion?" He smiled and she wasn't sure why.

"Last night. Nothing new there. I'd like to stage a low-key distraction there, make it look like we're moving Malfoy. That way if she is watching, she'll stop and we can move those soldiers elsewhere."

Harry furrowed his brow. "Why don't we put a few trainees there? Low security, just to make sure she doesn't go back for any reason." Ginny nodded her approval.

"I'm going to send Cho to Hermione's place. She had her apparition wards, so we need to figure out how she got in."

When Harry confirmed that choice, remarking that his old girlfriend Cho Chang was good at that, a very old twinge of jealousy struck inside of Ginny. The woman was spectacular at Charms work like this, and a great soldier for the D.A. since the early days. That didn't mean Ginny had to appreciate Harry thinking so highly of her.

"You should talk to Ron today. See if he remembers anything else from that night." Harry looked at her skeptically. Ginny frowned. Harry didn't like to make any of his friends uncomfortable, or ask them to remember anything like what Ron had just gone through. She couldn't decide if she liked this about him, or if he really needed to grow a pair after everything he'd been through and if he was going to head up the DMLE. "Anything can help, Harry. You know that." He conceded, but she noticed he was looking over her shoulder and out the window behind her, where Seamus was managing a large plow with his wand.

Harry's voice sounded boyish and wistful when he spoke again. "We should have done something like that."

Ginny's brows shot up at the plural pronoun and she looked over her shoulder at Seamus. "You really want to spend your life tending to a farm, Harry?"

Those ridiculously famous eyes turned to her and lit up from within. "With you?" He was casual, teasing, _flirting._ He shrugged, but it didn't seem genuine. "Sure."

The second her heart quieted the hell down, Ginny smacked his arm. "We've got work to do Potter." She stood, their legs practically intertwined, they had been sitting so near. "No time for all that."

* * *

Harry had gotten to know Hestia Jones well at the DMLE office. The Auror was energetic and strange, and a long-time sufferer of one-sided crushes from nearly half of the male staff in the department. Hestia's apartment reflected her single-minded devotion to her work. The small two-bedroom's most interesting feature was a large altar in the corner of the living room. The table was draped in bright red cloth and littered with tall candles in glass jars that were perpetually burning, cranberries, a sharp silver knife, a few empty wine bottles that glowed dimly, and framed photos of her friends and fellow Aurors that had died during the Second Wizarding War and since. Harry didn't recognize a few of the older-looking photos and suspected they might be her parents. Harry had found the altar disconcerting the first time he had visited Hestia at her home, setting it up as a safe house for the D.A., but now he found the permanent structure comforting. It was just like her to channel the grief they all carried around into one thing. He wondered if that was what allowed her to remain almost constantly cheerful.

"Oi! Harry!" Harry just caught a glimpse of black hair and blushing cheeks as he stepped out of the fireplace and head-first into Hestia.

"Hestia! I'm sorry. Didn't see you there." Shrugging, he stepped to the side and brushed the ashes off of his robes.

Hestia laughed, a smooth bubbling sound. "Don't mind me!" Harry squinted. She really was beautiful, in a way that was quiet until you got to know her. The mass infatuation made perfect sense. He had seen Hestia snap at someone exactly once, and that was at the Dursleys, which made her even more appealing. "Here to see good ol' Ronald, are you?" Harry nodded. "Right. Well I'm off to the island, see if we can figure out that escape."

Harry shivered. He hated sending people to Azkaban. "You've got a solid patronus, haven't you?"

Hestia smiled and waved about her wand. "Wouldn't have accepted the job without it!" Harry could barely imagine what Hestia would look like depressed by the Dementors. He didn't get the chance when Hestia set her surprisingly strong hand on his shoulder. "Don't you worry, Harry! We'll get it all sorted. You just catch the bitch!"

The word made Harry laugh from shock, not used to hearing Hestia talk like that in the office. "Right. On it. Ron's in the spare room then?"

Hestia nodded in answer and stepped into the fireplace before Harry could say "good luck."

"Harry!" Harry couldn't help but smile at Ron as he appeared in the hallway. Even as adults, he was used to seeing his friend nearly every day. "Finally time for the de-brief, eh?"

Harry followed Ron into the kitchen, grateful for the tea he started to prepare. "Yep. You feel up to it?"

Ron's nod contained no hesitation, to Harry's relief. "Honestly, I don't remember much. I don't know if I'll even be any help."

Harry frowned, Auror instincts kicking in. "Because you blocked it out? Do you think she used a memory charm on you?"

Ron shook his head. "The Healer said it could be because the rope would have cut off some of the oxygen to my brain."

Murmuring a recording spell onto his wand, Harry nodded to Ron. "May as well get it over then. Start from the beginning." Walking back to the table with two mugs of steaming tea and setting one in front of Harry, Ron set himself gingerly into the chair across from him. "Still sore?" Ron grimaced but didn't answer. "Right. First thing you remember that day then."

Ron watched the steam rise from the mug and spoke almost mechanically, as though he had been telling himself the series of events every night in sleep's stead. "You went into work early, I remember. Because of the _Prophet,_ how she had escaped and all. I stopped at the café a few buildings done from ours- you know, the one with the blonde waitress?" Harry saw a spark of a Ron he hadn't seen in days, and he missed him. "I know I left the café, and then I felt myself grabbed, and my hands were on the hot tea, you see, and I couldn't reach my wand." Ron hung his head. Harry thought he must feel embarrassed, as an Auror, to have been captured easily. He tried to give a reassuring nod. "Next thing I know I'm somewhere dark, tied up, and my wand is gone. She was…mad, Harry. I mean really pissed off. But it wasn't her that…she gave instructions to someone else. She couldn't possibly have been strong enough coming out of Azkaban to hit like that." Harry winced. "It didn't last long, I think. Or I kept passing out, I suppose." Finally, Ron looked up and made eye contact, and the clouds that hung over the usually clear blue eyes made Harry wish Hermione or Ginny or Mrs. Weasley were here. Someone better at comforting Ron, when Harry's only instinct was to offer not to talk about it and go fly around the yard. Instead, he let Ron continue, not breaking the eye contact just in case Ron needed it. "The last time I woke up, I was in your office, standing on a chair, the rope around my neck. She put the note in my pocket and told me…"

Ron had broken off suddenly. Shaken out of his own fog, Harry startled. "What? What did she tell you, Ron?"

The eye contact disappeared. The tea, which had to be cold by now, was Ron's sole focus. "She's after Hermione. She told me. 'Tell the mudblood she won't get away a second time.' That's what she said. I don't know why she made a whole list, but Hermione's who she wants." Harry sincerely hoped there were no tears in Ron's eyes.

"We won't give her the chance." The hard determination in Harry's voice was a surprise even to him, but Ron's chuckle was more astonishing.

"You sound like seventh year." The little smile on the redhead's face was pure nostalgia, and almost happy, and it returned Ron to normal. "You trust the Malfoys?"

"Malfoy? Yeah. Strange as it is. Narcissa I don't know as well, but we owe her a little of our trust at least. Do you?"

"Ha. Nope. But, I'm not in charge, now am I?" He finally brought the tea up to his mouth.

"Ginny's the boss of us all, isn't she?"

Ron and Harry laughed together for an hour, and it was the best hour either of them had spent in too many days.

* * *

Ginny realized she was rubbing her face when Neville pulled her worried hands away.

"So there's nothing new? No leads?"

Padma Patil was fierce looking when she wasn't being called inept, so the witchy way she waved her hand and the gauzy robe that went with it was downright intimidating. "That isn't what we're saying."

Parvati cut in without a pause. "I know that she's after Hermione, or at least a brown-haired Virgo. And you need to be careful about who you trust, someone is lying. Someone used to being in the background, or someone with a history of changing their mind. That was in the cards. I saw blood in the orb, but it wasn't violent, necessarily." Ginny's head was spinning. She trusted Parvati, but she couldn't help that her initial instinct was to dismiss divination in nearly all its forms. Besides, how was blood supposed to be non-violent? The liar could be either of the Malfoys…or a dozen other D.A. members and Aurors they trusted.

"Did you get anything _at all_ on where she might be? I mean…is she even in England?!" Neville's kind hand on her leg told her she was yelling. "Sorry. But I'd really rather catch her _before_ any blood gets involved."

Parvati took a step towards her and Ginny saw the shining jewelry on her face. "I don't know her, Ginny. I don't have a good read on her. I'm always going to have better information about us, unless you can get me some objects of hers, or something she's done magic on, anything." Ginny wished she could send them straight to Malfoy Manor to soak up all the nasty essence of Bellatrix that they could. Damn wards.

"Have you asked Narcissa about her research? Maybe you can get someone in." Ginny shivered at Padma's words. The woman was straight up spooky sometimes.

Neville spoke up for the both of them. They had talked to Narcissa this morning. She had a list of potentially meaningful memories with her sister, and they had sent scouts to any potential locations. The wards had been harder. But she had found a few rare books the D.A. wouldn't have had access to elsewhere, and one book she wasn't sure about, but it was entitled _Purity & Penance _that had water stains on the pages. Apparently, Bellatrix had a bad habit of reading in the bath, an image Ginny had been unable to shake from her head since. Someone could have told her that Voldemort preferred mint chocolate chip ice cream and she would have been less surprised.

Ginny had asked Narcissa to send the books to Hermione and Draco, knowing they were far more likely to dive into research enthusiastically than most of the Army and the DMLE. Ginny had sent a separate note to Hermione, asking if she wanted to come to Seamus' farm, as was planned, or if she wouldn't mind staying and keeping an eye on Malfoy. Hearing Neville answer the Patils' many questions with far more patience than she had, she sent a wave of gratitude towards him. He seemed to catch the wave and glanced at her, making her smile at their connection.

"We'll meet again in three days, alright?" Even Neville's commanding voice was gentle. The twins nodded and apparated on the spot, even though they were supposed to go out to the alley. Neville turned to Ginny, seated on his left. "You look tired, Gin."

Ginny let her arms and forehead slowly hit the table, where she groaned from beneath her hair, "I'm always tired, Nev."

He chuckled. "How's Seamus' farm?" There was a wink to his voice, and Ginny was grateful her face was still on the table.

Weakly, she managed "Fine?" and didn't intend it to be the question it came out as.

"Staying under the same roof as Harry again, eh? When was the last time that happened?"

Ginny pulled her head up with exaggerated effort and glared at Neville, hiding her smile behind a grimace. "You know very well when."

Neville seemed to be barely holding back his laughter. "Suppose you should stay out of the firewhiskey this time?"

Ginny groaned loudly and returned her head back to the table, whom she had decided was a better friend.

* * *

Draco slept on the floor in front of her bed again the next night. When Hermione rolled over in the middle of the night and opened her eyes, she saw his young face and his wand, held tightly, and she wondered if he was protecting her or protecting himself. Unsure when he had come in, as he had still been reading on the couch when she had gone to bed, she searched her tired mind before deciding she was alright with it, and fell back into a comforted slumber.

 _Hermione couldn't see. When she focused her energy on opening her eyes, she found they were already staring at an impenetrable blackness. Shivering, she tried to remember what time of year it was and was unsure. All she felt was the cool, smooth stone on her back- which told her she was wearing very little. Blinded, she realized she was standing, and when she went to use her hands to discover what she did have on, and found her hands wouldn't leave the wall. Hermione began to panic when she realized she couldn't feel her wand in her hand and, though she felt no ropes, she was clearly stuck to the stone somehow. A frozen breeze rushed through and Hermione felt her nipples harden and her stomach clench with anxiety. Her mind was rolling between phrase-less words of panic and weak rationale that failed to calm her. She tried screaming for help, but found she was sure no one could hear her. She was trying to soothe herself by humming an old lullaby when she felt the voice at her side. "I want you to watch, carefully. But if you scream, you'll do it yourself. The words left spit on her ear. Hermione wasn't sure what "it" was, but she knew the voice, and then her blindfold, if that was what it had been, was gone._

 _Draco was in front of her. Glued to the floor and shirtless. He didn't look like a man or a child, he looked like a badly scarred lamb for slaughter, and when Bellatrix began carving into his arm, Hermione wished he would scream for the both of them._

* * *

"Granger!" Hermione didn't stop thrashing and whimpering. "Granger!" Draco hesitantly grabbed her arm, loosely shaking her. She was still in the nightmare, sweat gathering at her hairline and teeth chattering. He found the other arm and shook her harder. "Wake up!" Nothing.

She was muttering, but he couldn't tell what she was saying. She had been screaming earlier, which had awoken him, but that had been minutes ago, and she was still unreachable. In frustration, he put a hand on her neck, another cradling her face. He didn't yell this time. It was almost more like a prayer. "Hermione, please you have to wake up."

Her eyes opened and she gasped awake, but didn't jump from his nearness. Her "Oh…" was far more sound than word.

Draco sighed with relief and pulled away, sitting on the bed and slowing his wild heart rate. "Do you remember what happened?" Draco asked it before he remembered asking the same question that very morning.

She sat up, and Draco watched her wet hair drip onto her tank top, reminding him of the night before and her soft skin in his hands. "It was her. She…" Hermione looked at Draco nervously. "It was at your…at Malfoy Manor. She was-" Hermione moved her hand to cover her bicep and the ugly scarred word there. Draco cringed.

"So it was a memory?" This was important.

Hermione shook her head, curls tossing about behind her. "No." She was avoiding his eyes now.

"What happened?"

Her eyes met his, and the black rings around her pupils struck him. "She was doing it to you." Hermione reached out one of her small hands and set it on his bare knee and it gave him goosebumps. She answered his next question before he asked it. "It said…traitor." Without thinking, he set his hand on top of hers and let his head fall. She whispered as she turned her own hand to hold his. "I'm sorry Draco."

Draco looked up at Hermione. _Say my name again. Say it a thousand times and I'll let her carve anything into me._ Fuck, he was tired.

He fixed her with his eyes, soaking in the warmth of her hand. "This is important Granger. I need you to think about how it felt." Her brows furrowed. "Did it feel like a dream? Or did it feel like…like a film? Like you were actually watching it?"

When her eyes opened wide after a long pause, Draco's worst fears were realized.

"It wasn't a dream."

"What was it?" Her voice shook on the short sentence.

Draco hung his head and felt the powerful weight of his eyelids. It was too late for this conversation. "Do you know about Occlumency? Or Legilimancy?"

Hermione nodded, looking afraid and foggy from sleep. "Harry had to learn it…Voldemort was planting ideas in his head." Another part of Draco that lived behind his current concerns was interested in this trivia.

Draco could feel the pity in his eyes as he nodded. The fear reached her cheeks. He unfolded their hands and rubbed the back of his neck, nervous about where this was taking them. "I can teach you how to block it out." He saw a bit of her fear fade, and reached out his hand to where he thought her knee was under the blanket, but he missed and had his hand on her thigh. He felt suddenly both possessive and intrusive. "We'll talk about it tomorrow."

When he moved to go back to his space on the floor, she slid down, silent.

After an hour of listening to her uneven breath, Draco went to his trunk and gave them both a sip of Sleeping Draught.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you for the lovely reviews and follows! Also, inspiration for Hestia's altar comes from a poem called "Frida Kahlo to Marty McConnell." by Marty McConnell. I know this is a slower burn than most of my stories that go straight to the "good stuff" but good things come to those who wait, right?! Please read and review and let me know what you think!**


	5. Chapter 5: Blood

Hermione lay still until she was sure Malfoy was beginning to stir on the floor beside her bed. She had been awake for, well, she had no way of knowing; she hadn't wanted to get out of bed and go downstairs. The "dream"-or whatever it was- needed to be talked about, and that was an impossible conversation to have while a three-year-old was screaming about becoming a four-year-old tomorrow.

"How long have you been staring at me, Granger?" Malfoy hadn't moved, but she could see his eyes were open.

"I wasn't."

"Hmph. Doubtful."

"How would you know, you haven't moved."

Draco flipped over quickly beneath his sheets and smirked at her until she realized her mistake. She rapidly took him in anew today: following the clean cuts on his bare chest to the sharp angle of his lips, from the hard lines of his cheekbones to the mussed spikes of white hair. There was so much to Malfoy she hadn't let herself see in those weekly meetings that felt like a waste of her time. It was strange. Hermione couldn't see how it was the same man that had sat across from her and pushed and prodded his way into a bigger fortune who was now spending far too much of his time concerned about her safety. Then again, she hadn't felt much like herself since the List, either. Hermione didn't remember feeling this scared, this targeted, this _responsible_ when it was Voldemort they were fighting _._ It made their seventh year- of camping and hunger and dragons- seem like a rash teenage rebellion. Now they were the adults. Ginny and Harry were making life and death decisions every day, and Hermione needed to make sure that even if Bellatrix got her, she wasn't able to reach any children, neither the Weasleys she loved, nor any little muggle-borns just trying to belong in a world Hermione thought she had already done the fighting to protect.

When Hermione blinked herself back to the present, she found Draco standing, pulling his black tee over his head. She stood as well, then remembered the only clothes she had were the ones she had borrowed from Fleur yesterday, and those she had been wearing that were still covered in mud. With a huff of frustration, she decided to pretend she was perfectly comfortable in Fleur's pajamas- despite the silk camisole and pants making her feel very on display and too feminine.

"Wait!" Draco's hand was on the doorknob when she called out. With a quick look of confusion, he turned away and walked back towards her. Hermione took a deep breath. She really needed to not be awkward right now. _Don't pay attention to his stubble. Or his hair. Or his morning breath. Or your total bralessness. Jesus, just settle down Hermione._ Draco was raising an eyebrow and looking down at her. With a small gesture to the bed, Hermione crawled back onto it, staying above the covers, and settled into a cross-legged seat, encouraging him to do the same, trying to show him they were having that conversation. Now. _Pretend it's one of your meetings. You're not in bed or afraid and he hasn't seen you nearly naked._

"Your meeting, Granger." He was grinning. _How did he know?_

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Right." Silence.

Draco chuckled loosely. "You had a dream last night." Hermione nodded. "Only it wasn't a dream." His gray eyes were all summer rain filled clouds, comfortable and exciting. She must have looked unsure, because he rolled his sleeves back a little on each arm. "See? No words." She covered her own carved arm unconsciously, but her glance at his remaining Dark Mark was purposeful. He caught her. "That's not going away, trust me." The lines around his eyes told her he had tried. "You said you knew what occlumency was?"

Hermione nodded. "Well, yes. Harry was supposed to learn it, so I read about it."

Malfoy scoffed playfully. "Of course. I can't imagine Potter was very good at it."

Hermione squinted her eyes at the man whose posture was immaculate even when sitting on a child's bed. "Why do you say that?" She wondered if she was looking for a reason to be irritated at him, a way to make him the old Draco Malfoy again.

"He's never been the most focused of students, I don't know if you noticed."

Hermione stifled her laugh, but a little grin and roll of her eyes escaped. "Well. Yes. Anyway. Harry had a special case, but I thought you had to be near the other person to successfully get into their head?"

It worried her when Draco's face fell and he nodded. "You do. Usually."

"So. Either's she's nearby…or she's using some kind of amplifier?" Hermione bit her lip, anxious for Malfoy to provide a third option, but he was still, and staring at her. It took her a minute to realize that he wasn't staring at her face. She followed his eyes…to her chest?! She cleared her throat and ducked her head to find eye contact. "Malfoy if you are looking at my…."

He reached out and pointed at her arm- no, her scar- before she finished her sentence. "Didn't the Healers offer to remove this for you?"

"Yeah, they did. They, um. They weren't able to. They tried, figured the knife was cursed to make the wounds permanent." And they were. Nine years after Bellatrix had bent her eager body over hers, you would think it had been yesterday, the scars looked so fresh. Sometimes Hermione thought she would feel wet blood when she touched it.

Draco's hand was still hovering over the scar. "Do you mind if I…"

"Oh. Um, no. I mean, I don't mind." _You've already washed it, or don't you remember?_

Malfoy's touch was hesitant, his hands soft and thin. He brushed at the letters, then began to rub one of the o's, almost digging into it. Hermione watched. First his hand, then his focused, intense eyes. But as he got closer, her view was marred by his head, and that white nonsense he called hair was in her face. She could smell the same child's shampoo he had rubbed into her scalp only two days ago. She desperately wanted to know if the white strands were soft or wiry or waxy smooth. Instead, she leaned away from the temptation. And immediately fell onto her back, hitting her skull on the headboard with a loud thunk and bringing Draco, who had been so entranced with her scar that he had fallen over when her arm had flown backwards.

She jerked instinctively to touch the bump on her head, and the movement pulled her face not an inch from his, which was now hovering over her, his left arm holding him up, reflexive enough to have stopped his fall. Hermione could feel the cotton warmth of his abdomen on the silk of hers, the Dark Mark to her immediate right if she cared to turn her head. She couldn't look at him, finding his blonde stubble-covered chin the safest place to rest her nervous eyes, but she could feel his gaze all over her face. Later, she would wonder why she didn't push him off immediately. She never really asked why he didn't pull away unprompted.

A timely knock on the door interrupted the tense silence and they both jumped apart, Hermione hitting her head again and Draco jumping off the bed entirely before Hermione called out that they could come in. She thanked fate that it was the slightly more likely to be clueless Bill and not Fleur that came in with two large packages and a letter in hand.

"Good morning Bill. We were just, um, chatting."

Bill nodded, looking between the two of them."Sure." Hermione wondered why he didn't mention the extra room she knew they had. "These came for you last night, took a bit to get through the D.A. wards, even though they're from Ginny."

Hermione stood to receive the packages, but Draco had already done so, nodding his chin for her to accept the letter. "Thanks Bill." She gave him her best Weasley smile, the one she used to reassure them that she was happy to be a part of a very large, very intense family, and was not at all the ex- girlfriend and only child who was still a bit intimidated by the whole thing. "Is Dom excited?"

Bill grinned back. "Oh of course. You two are all set to head to the Burrow around 5, right?"

Draco looked up from the packages he was unwrapping, which seemed to contain books and clothes, respectively. "Sorry?"

"Dominique's birthday is tomorrow, so we'll be doing dinner at the Burrow tonight. Everyone's going."

Standing up straight again, Draco still wasn't as tall or confident as Bill Weasley. "I'm sure you will all have a better time without my presence."

Bill's laugh was deep and charming. "Oh I'm sure. But Ginny was strict. Everyone on the list." Draco frowned. "Honestly Malfoy, I'm fairly sure Victoire would insist on it anyway. She thinks you're one of us now." Draco rolled his eyes, but Hermione saw the posy pink blush that popped onto his cheeks for a moment. Bill looked at the two of them. "Anyway, breakfast is getting cold." And he was gone.

The first package was indeed clothes- Ginny had gone shopping for Hermione and had thankfully brought along Ron, who knew what she actually wore on days off and to bed, though the note included an anecdote about him picking out everything in a size small because he didn't know any better. Hermione sighed with anticipation at the idea of clean jeans and underwear. The second package was full of books that Draco seemed to recognize. "These are from the Manor Library, I think." _How large is your library if you don't even know…_ Hermione stopped herself from fantasizing about the Malfoy Manor Library, though it was tempting. Instead, she unfolded Ginny's letter and summarized aloud.

"Narcissa-your mum I mean- picked out the books she thought Bellatrix might have read to know about the wards around the Manor." She chuckled. "Ginny figures the two of us are the most likely to enjoy the research." Draco breathed a chuckle too. "I suppose she's right. She recommends starting with _Purity & Penance_" Hermione suppressed a shiver. "Your aunt liked reading in the bath, apparently." Draco grimaced and it almost made Hermione giggle. Instead, she returned to the letter, reading Ginny's offer to move her to Seamus' with herself and Harry. Concerned at her initial aversion to this, Hermione was relieved and conflicted by the next sentence, asking her instead to stay and keep an eye on Draco.

Malfoy must have been watching her face, because he hesitantly asked. "What else?"

Hermione shook her head, pasting a little smile on her face. "She just says she'll see us tonight and we should try to get some reading done before then."

Draco nodded. "Right. It's not as if either of us have anything else to do."

* * *

Ginny remembered school and the Second War, but not as well as she wished. Sometimes she thought her brain had developed a weak memory purposefully. Some sort of coping mechanism. If she focused she could remember her first year at Hogwarts, but most days she let it sit like a blurry sun on the edge of her mind, something she chose not to stare directly at or think about any more than absolutely necessary. Of course, she couldn't remember the First War at all. But she knew that Bill would have been Dominique's age in the midst of it. She knew her parents would have been organizing unauthorized portkeys to bring friends to a little celebration, looming danger on the periphery of their minds and hands on their wands as they watched their child open gifts and blow out candles. Ginny hadn't told anyone this, but she had re-started the D.A., with Neville's help, at George's request. When baby Fred had been just a few days old, he had asked his own little sister to keep the world safe for his son. Now, at big Weasley family get togethers, Ginny was internally on guard for her nieces and nephews. The only thing that mattered was that none of her siblings had to raise their kids in the middle of another war.

Ginny pointed this secret fact out to George tonight, when he passed her a flask while Freddy played with his cousins.

"I'll bet you the kid himself that you set Neville up on backup tonight and he's sitting somewhere, sober, poor thing, in case someone in the D.A. sneezes wrong." George raised an eyebrow at her until she rolled her eyes and grabbed the flask from his hands.

"Don't be obnoxious just because I'm good at my job." Ginny stuck out her tongue at him before taking a swig.

George just laughed-his perfectly happy post-war laugh that lacked the spice and volume of the one she had grown up hearing in reply, then Ginny heard Bill's voice as he walked up to the two of them. "I figure if the only time we all get together is for the kids' parties, we may as well make them our parties as well."

Ginny looked out at the lawn, doing a quick count with her eyes. She and Ron had carried out three large picnic tables end-to-end, where Arthur now sat talking about the new ingredient importation regulations with Percy, Hermione, and Malfoy, who was being poked repeatedly by Victoire, surely asking for something. In the middle, Fleur sat with Audrey and Molly, cooing over little Roxanne, whose soft curls had taken on a shade of red that shocked even the Weasleys. Ginny smiled when she found Angelina, Ron, and Harry had gathered up Louis, Dominique, Freddy, and little Molly for kiddie Quidditch, which was essentially throwing variously shaped balls at the babies and encouraging them to throw them at big plastic hoops the children barely knew existed. Looking closer, Ginny wondered if they had put money on it, because Harry was very enthusiastic about Louis picking up the small squishy golden ball that was right in front of him. Eighteen. Plus herself. She just had to make sure they stayed at 18 tonight, and she could relax.

"Oi. Look at her. Angie does this too, what is that? A woman thing?" George ran his hand in front of Ginny's eyes.

Bill laughed. "I've never seen Fleur with an expression that stupid. Quidditch player thing? Oof!" She didn't need to see the punch to know George had bruised Bill's arm.

"Arse."

"I'm sorry, couldn't hear you. Speak into my ear."

"You two are ridiculous, and I need another." Her brothers raised their brow at her when she offered the flask back. When she said nothing, they looked at each other.

"What? It was What did you two…it was just butterbeer…"

Bill's smile stretched slowly to cover his whole face, until he was showing all of his teeth while George laughed outright, holding his stomach and shaking his head. "It's one of our new gags at the shop. It's quadruple-strength butterbeer. Thought we'd test it out tonight."

Ginny's jaw dropped and she was suddenly aware of the lightness in her stomach.

"Looks like it worked, George. Nice one." Bill pat George on the shoulder and they laughed again.

"Suppose it's too late to be a bummer about it, eh?" The boys nodded in unison. "Is anyone here sober, or at least the level of sober they think they are?"

Bill nodded, still snickering. "We only gave it to you, Malfoy, Harry, Hermione, and Percy without knowing." He pointed at the subjects, Ginny wondered if any of them were feeling the effects like she was. Bill continued, "Audrey, Ron and Dad have some but they know what it is so they're sipping slow. That leaves Mum, Fleur, and Angelina perfectly capable."

"How has no one else railed on the two of you yet?!" Ginny wasn't angry, but she wanted them to think she was. Mostly she felt warm, and flexible, and was pretty sure she wanted more of the concoction.

"No one else downed theirs so fast!"

Mouth agape, Ginny really tried to pretend anger, but she just burst out laughing. "George, this may be one of my favorite of your inventions."

"Aw don't say that!" Bill chimed in, his voice sounding as jovial as she felt, "What about Arnold?!"

* * *

By the time the stars were out in their full brightness, the kids were tucked into one magically enlarged bed and Angelina had taken a sleeping Roxanne home. Everyone else was enjoying the early summer evening. Flasks had given to glasses of actual butterbeer or McCann's Magical Mint Ale that made your breath smell heavenly as you drank it. Percy was especially entertaining at this level of intoxication; he was very loud and tried to crack jokes that might have been funny if he wasn't telling them in comparison to George, Ginny, and even Ron. Harry had won Kiddie Quidditch, when Louis had finally picked up the soft first-sized "snitch" and put it in his mouth. Angelina owed him two sickles. Satisfied, he had spent the rest of the evening watching all of them, a low warmth in his gut burning with love for the family that had chosen him.

Malfoy had gotten quite pissed when he had figured out the butterbeer, but Hermione had shaken her head and said something to him, and Harry had been surprised to see him calm down so much so that when Victoire tugged on his sleeve and asked to be "flown", half the Weasleys gasped as Malfoy picked her up and spun her around by the arms, her skirts billowing out in the air, her delighted screeches nearly drowned out by his own surprising laughter. George, Bill, Ginny and Ron (though he seemed to be the soberest of them all) were in top Weasley form, picking on each other and telling increasingly filthy jokes. Hermione, Fleur, and Audrey had a cartwheel contest and Fleur came back with grass-stains on her clothes, making them all smile as she took it in stride. The flirting Harry had witnessed between Mr. and Mrs. Weasley that night would scar him for years. Harry saw Bill and Fleur sneak a heated kiss when they thought no one was looking, and he saw Percy when he attempted to poke at the hole in the size of George's head, and ask him "if he had tried to fit anything in there, for decorative purposes?"

Harry was happy to sit back and listen to the nostalgia pop around the circle as old Hogwarts stories stacked on top of each other with various perspectives and re-tellings when they all crowded around one of the picnic tables. When George told the story of a prank he and Fred had pulled on Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad, everyone had looked at Malfoy. When the blonde had supplied details that made the story even better, and laughed aloud as he gave them, Harry had been forced to shake his head in astonishment at how far they had all come. Percy, Bill and Hermione shared stories about their prefect duties that made Harry's eyes bug out in shock. Molly told a bittersweet story about her brothers and their impressive, even by Weasley standards, hijinks. He watched Malfoy gradually shift closer to Hermione, observed amused, the way Malfoy reached his body over hers to refill both their glasses with butterbeer while Hermione thanked him with a giggle.

Harry watched all of these things, and in between, he watched Ginny. He knew he was drunk, he thought even as he sipped more butterbeer, but Ginny was especially pretty tonight. She was always beautiful, but she really was something else entirely in the summer. She glowed. He could practically feel the way her pale skin soaked up the sun, leaving her skin warm into the night. Instead of leaving her long hair hot against her neck, she would braid it or tie it up, showing off the place at the back of her neck that had fewer freckles, and felt forbidden and untouched. Ginny just _felt_ like summer to him, all relaxation and excitement and brightness. Sitting far from him now at the table, she kept running her thumb along the top of the bottle in her hands, looking distracted and restless. It was making Harry nervous.

Harry straddled the bench to face Ron, sitting on his right, and whispered, "I'm just going to the loo if anyone asks, yeah?" Ron nodded. Harry made sure to walk away from the table confidently, so that no one would stop him or think he was being rude to Fleur, who was telling a story about George making a younger Dominique laugh so hard she wet herself but refused to admit it and told everyone her uncle was the source of the smell.

The grass felt good on Harry's toes, and he realized he must have taken off his trainers somewhere. Taking a swig from the bottle in his hand, Harry looked up at the night sky, trying not to fall over. He just wanted to lay on the cool grass and stare up there, he would swear every star available had come out for little Dom's birthday. He wondered if he could find the Dog Star, or the Leo constellation. Making a wide turn around the house, Harry could no longer see the family lower down on the hill. Harry smiled widely thinking of them and stopped walking, side stepping so his back had the support of one of the crooked walls, and let his neck flip all the way back to try to take in those stars.

"You can't run off like that, Potter." The voice was all sunny lakeside days and he could smell that floral scent he had never been able to pinpoint the source of.

"Mm. I didn't run anywhere." Harry turned his head and addressed the girl of his dreams as she walked towards him, her denims tight, her Harpies Tee-shirt faded, her feet bare.

Ginny was close to him now. "It's not safe. You can't leave me like that." She stopped her sentence short, and Harry wondered if she realized what she had said.

With more effort than it should have required, Harry righted his head and found she was standing immediately in front of him. His answer was quiet. "I couldn't."

Ginny walked closer. "I know."

When Ginny was so close Harry could smell the Magical Mint on her breath, he could feel her reaching out to him in the dark. "Ginny how much have you had to…?"

Her words were on his ear and he gasped an inhale. "No more than you."

"We shouldn't."

A breathy laugh. "I know that too."

Ginny's soft, bare lips just grazed Harry's, but that wasn't enough. It never had been. Harry found her waist with his eyes closed. He wasn't sure if her startled "Oh" was because he grabbed her hard, or that he pulled her tight against him, or that he nibbled her lower lip before taking her in a full force uninhibited kiss. Harry poured everything he had been craving since this mess with Bellatrix started into her mint-tinted mouth. He started hard and determined, but when he was sure she wasn't going anywhere, wasn't backing away or teasing him, he released her waist and let her fall into him, resting both of their weight against the Burrow wall, and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her slowly, deeply. He wanted to remind her how obvious, how easy, this was. Ginny pulled her arms around him as well, tucking her hands into his back pockets, pulling his lower half against her and they relaxed into each other. _We can do this for hours, if you like, Ginny. Hell, we can do this for years. Just don't decide it doesn't work. Just stay here._

As if she could read his mind, Ginny ground deeper into him, and he was sure she could feel the hardness pressing against his jeans. She gave one of her little moans he knew she didn't realize she made. Harry found the hem of her shirt, slowly crawling his hands up the back, feeling the warm sun-soaked skin he had expected, and the shiver he caught in his hands as he roamed her abdomen and back and grazed over her chest, ignoring her press into him asking for more. When he felt Ginny's hands leave his pockets, Harry feared the worst, but she mimicked him, pushing her hands under his shirt and up his back. He was perfectly aware of his involuntary groan when she raked her nails down his back, leaving his lips to plant a bite on his neck and returning before he had a chance to complain. He was just about to retaliate with a hard, sucking kiss against that spot at her collarbone that made her whine, when they heard a shrill scream inside the house.

* * *

Chalking it up to powerful intoxication and really spectacular strawberry cake, Draco admitted to himself that this might be the most enjoyable birthday party he had been to in years, and it wasn't even his. Somehow, he had managed a seat beside Granger all night, and she hadn't flinched when he had grazed her arm accidentally or leaned in close to ask her to clarify some of the family stories. Figuring out early on who would be the wariest of his presence, he had kept his space from Ron, and played along with George. Now, with the night sky at its darkest and most everyone having yawned at least once, even Mrs. Weasley was calling him "dear" and Mr. Weasley, a man he remembered actually fighting with his father in second year, had clapped him on the back in approval of some policies on muggle artifacts Draco had persuaded Hermione into enacting months ago.

Draco looked around the table; their party was thinning out. With Fleur and Mrs. Weasley's leaving to go check on the children, Bill and George had shifted down the table to join their father, Hermione, and himself, leaving a sleeping Percy with his head on the table as his wife pet his hair and whispered to him to wake up. Harry and Ginny had disappeared around the same time, and Draco had restrained a snort of laughter at their not so subtle timing. Ron, the one person Draco was still anxious sharing a space with, had gone back to his safehouse twenty minutes ago. Mr. Weasley was in the middle of a long story about George and his twin when they were kids. The alcohol had settled in enough to make the childhood story one mixed with melancholy, and they all nodded along, laughing and sighing in appropriate places. Hermione's head was propped on her hand and he wasn't sure her eyes were staying open. As they all chuckled at a weak punchline about twins, a sudden screech broke the peace.

It was as though a Sobering Charm had been cast on the group at once. Every person at the table jerked up, brandishing their wands, and began to run to the oddly shaped home at various paces. Bill seemed to be the fastest, and Draco realized it had been Fleur's distinctive voice screaming. The parents were next, George, Percy and Audrey sprinting behind him. It took Draco a moment to realize Hermione was pulling at him, telling him to come with her. "Get your wand out, Malfoy, come on, we've got to see what's wrong!" A voice in Draco's head he wasn't sure he didn't want to listen to said " _No I don't, they're not my kids, or yours. I say we run in the opposite direction!"_ But he let her pull him with her. As they approached the house, Ginny and Harry came around the side of it, all flustered. Draco could see the fear in their eyes, but the red on their cheeks and the mark on Potter's neck made him stifle a laugh.

"What happened?" Ginny addressed Hermione, who shook her head. The red-headed girl looked at Hermione and Harry. "Do a quick perimeter check? Patronus back with anything but be back within five minutes. The pair nodded and took off without another word. "Did you see anyone else here, Malfoy?" _Are you suspecting me?_

"I was sitting at the table with everyone else, Weasley, what do you think?" Draco looked at the girl. She seemed a little overwhelmed, glancing around her nonsensically, and they were still hovering in the doorway. He whispered an offer- "You need a minute?"

Ginny looked at him gratefully and nodded, running her fingers through her hairline and calming her breath.

"Right. Ignore me then." Her eyes questioned at first, but followed along, and Draco did what he did best. He became the bad guy. Blocking her way into the house, he began. "Oh sure!" He kept his voice just below the yell it would have been had it been sincere. "Blame the Slytherin. Right off, no questions asked. You don't even know what happened yet! Bloody Dumbledore's Army is supposed to protect me and my mother but don't even trust us. Is that right, Weasley?"

Ginny was smiling at him, her mouth agape. She let out a silent laugh and mouthed "thank you" before yelling in reply. "I had to ask, Malfoy! Bloody hell."

Draco nodded his head at her, allowing her to pass and following behind.

Draco didn't have time to marvel at the cluttered home as they climbed the stairs, looking for the rest of the clan. On the third floor, they found them all squished together in a child's bedroom. Clearly all of the kids had been sleeping in the magically enlarged bed only moments before, because now they were all in the arms of various parents, most falling back asleep, one or two crying, Dominique screaming in her mom's arms. Suddenly, at his side, Draco felt little hands holding his. He looked behind him, wondering if it was Hermione, but his eyes found Victoire, her head at his hips, her eyes wide but her lips determined and silent.

The adults were talking loudly, but Draco still couldn't see what the fuss was about, the room was so crowded with very tall Weasleys. Instead, he pulled her out into the hall and kneeled down to Victoire's level. "Do you know what happened?"

The little blonde head nodded.

"Can you tell me?"

She was still.

Draco dropped his voice to a whisper. "Are you being strong for your little cousins?"

An eager nod and slowly watering eyes answered him, and Draco held back from hugging the child. Instead, he held her hand.

"Good girl. Did somebody come into the room?"

Her voice was so much smaller than just a few hours ago when she had been bothering him to play. "I was asleep."

Draco smiled at her. "That's okay! That's good. Did you see anything odd? Do you know what scared your mum?"

A nod. "She screamed when she saw the words."

"…what words? You can read, right? What were the words?"

"No one's ever understood me like you, Tom."

Draco's face was blank. "That was the…Victoire where was it written?"

Victoire shrugged but answered. "On the wall?"

Draco didn't have time to put it together, when Harry and Hermione came tumbling up the stairs to them. Victoire lifted up her arms, her eyes starting to betray her and water heavily.

"Okay." He didn't have time to hesitate. He hugged the little girl and she locked her arms around his neck. "It's okay. You can cry I won't let anyone see." He felt her nod against his neck.

As he stood and turned to face the Gryffindors, he mouthed "Anything out there?"

Quietly, they answered with head shakes. "What happened?" Hermione asked in a whisper.

"I don't know" Draco mouthed, and tilted his head to gesture them into the crowded room.

Making sure he had a good grip on the little girl who had attached herself to him, Draco followed them. His jaw dropped when he saw the wall behind the children's bed. Sure enough, in shining red letters that he recognized from their second year and feared were drawn in blood, the wall read "No one's ever understood me like you, Tom." Of course, Victoire had left out the quotation marks. Frustrated, Draco still didn't understand until he looked around and realized most of the adults in the room were on the same page as him: shocked, but confused.

In the middle of the room, however, was Ginny Weasley, face white, quiet tears streaming down her cheeks, looking eleven years old again with her wand limp at her side. The group watched as Harry stepped carefully around everyone to get to her, his face hard and angry as he wrapped her into his arms. Suddenly, Draco felt like they were intruding on an intimate moment and everyone but the pair filtered out of the room, children in arms, whispering their good-byes as they made their way to the fireplace.

* * *

 **A/N: Yay! Thanks for reading and reviewing, I love you all.**


	6. Chapter 6: Walls

When Harry woke up alone, still fully dressed, in Ginny's childhood bed, he had to think hard to remember why he was at the Burrow. It came to him in drips, his mind working in a muggy fog- the party, Ginny, the message on the wall. She hadn't cried long in his arms. The house had quickly emptied of other guests, and Molly had sent an owl to Seamus telling them not to expect his guests home tonight. Harry had slowly stepped the two of them- a unit of clinging shock- to Ginny's bed and she had pulled him in with her. The last thing Harry remembered was holding her, counting her heartbeats until he knew she was asleep.

Ginny was sitting at the kitchen table when Harry found went downstairs. She looked the way he felt, her head in her hands, her flat hair tied up in a haphazard knot, her grass-stained jeans and tee-shirt wrinkled by Harry's own eager hands the night before. A steaming mug of tea sat in front of her, and a plate of scones was on the table, looking untouched. Molly must have been up with her earlier. "Hey." Harry started softly, not sure where Ginny's mind was or if she was ready to talk. She looked up at the word, and her eyes went straight to his hair. It must have been wild, because she nearly smiled. Running a hand through the black mess, Harry rubbed his neck shyly and motioned to the stove, asking if the water was still hot. She nodded.

"Are you feeling alright?" Harry asked, facing the tea kettle as he poured himself a cup.

"Depends- do you mean the hangover or the fact that my parents' house was broken into and kids were terrorized last night?" Ginny's voice was emotionless, and surprisingly light.

Harry winced as he turned around and sat at the table near the scones, which he began picking at. "I forgot about the hangover."

Her eyes on the table, Ginny exhaled a scoff. "No kidding." Her slim hands wandered restlessly around her mug. Without thinking, Harry reached out to calm them.

Ginny's head whipped up to meet his, her mouth open. "Last night..." she looked down at his hands covering hers and Harry realized he had crossed a line and pulled his back quickly.

"Sorry. I didn't think…" He began, not wanting her to think that because of a kiss he thought they were back together. _Unless._

"Harry." Ginny's tone was soft and deep, the kind she used to use in bed sometimes. He found her eyes. "I have to catch her. That's all I can think about right now."

Harry couldn't help but snort at the irony. "I know the feeling." She smiled at it, a taste of bitterness in the corner of her mouth.

"That's not to say it wasn't, um, nice." She made a little uncertain laugh and Harry wanted to bottle it up for later.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Nice, eh?"

"Shut up."

Harry laughed, and the hangover encouraged him to follow her instructions. He moved the plate closer to her and nodded, encouraging her to eat something.

After a few minutes in the peace of shared misery, Ginny spoke. "It's only been a week." Confused, Harry didn't respond. "It's only been a week since she's escaped, and look what she's been able to do, Harry."

Harry swallowed thickly. "We'll find her. We will."

He watched her, wondering if tears were coming, or anger. Neither did. "We should change. Ron, Malfoy, and Hermione are on their way."

"Are you going to tell them what it meant?" Harry asked his question, knowing the decision had to be entirely hers. Only the two of them knew it, but it was hers. "You don't have to, you know."

Ginny nodded. "I am. I think-" she sighed "I think they deserve to know. Besides, I figure two things. One, the people on the list are in it together. Two, the more trustworthy people that have all the information, the faster you solve the puzzle."

Harry nodded, still chewing. "You trust Malfoy?"

Ginny considered this. "I do. I think he's…emotionally invested." She wiggled her eyebrows at him and he laughed, accidentally spewing a few small pieces of bread, which made Ginny giggle and pick up a crumb to throw back at him. "You're disgusting."

Harry grinned at her, happy to feel juvenile for a minute. She shook her head as she bounced up the stairs and out of sight.

Harry was standing to wash the empty plate and cold mugs when Mrs. Weasley stepped quietly down the stairs and into the kitchen. He did a double take when he saw that her hands and arms were stained dark red and she carried a bucket that smelled strongly.

"It was just paint dear." She shook her head as she poured the dirty water down the sink. "Thought it best to get it off the walls and out of our minds as soon as possible."

Harry agreed with a mumble. He wanted to hug her. Instead, he thanked her for the scones and kissed her cheek before climbing the stairs two at a time and rummaging through Ron's old things for clothes that would fit.

* * *

Hermione's eyes were doing that thing where they got larger and darker, filling up with pity and concern. Ginny hated it. As the five of them sat around Molly's kitchen table, Ginny made the mistake of sitting directly across from her friend, who mouthed, "Are you okay?" while all of the boys mourned their morning-after headaches. Ginny just gave Hermione a single nod. _Fine. Don't ask again. Please._ She knew how to change the subject, so she silently nodded towards Harry, a quirk in the corner of her mouth. Hermione's eyebrows climbed as her cheeks rose into a grin. Ginny shrugged, then winked, which made them both giggle despite themselves. The men looked up, as though noticing their presence for the first time.

"Right" Ginny could tell her voice still carried some laughter in it. That was okay. "It's been a week since Bellatrix escaped." Groans circled the table.

Ron muttered, "Blimey, is that all?"

"Exactly. And since we clearly haven't caught her yet- though the DMLE and DA are working at it, I promise you all- and she's managed to…erm, scare, I suppose, us a couple times now, I thought it was about time we all got together and caught up on a few things." Ginny nodded to mark the end of her sentence and waited. She glanced at Harry, who raised his brows as if to say "Well? It's okay if you don't want to."

Ginny sighed, looking down at the familiar wooden table. This had often been her favorite chair and there was a little groove on the seat where she had gripped and rubbed circles into the wood when she was scared or anxious or angry at her brothers. She let her index finger find the softened place again now. "I suppose it's only fair if I begin. Ron, I think you'd left already, and Malfoy, I don't know how much of this story you know." The blonde nodded at her to go on, perhaps granting her permission, but it felt more like encouragement. "Last night, Bellatrix- or someone on her orders- wrote on the wall in red paint, 'No one's ever understood me like you Tom.'" Ginny took a shaky breath. "I don't know about you lot, but I thought her reasons to come for revenge from almost everyone on the list made sense- but me. Well, I get it now." She considered forcing a laugh but the faces around her were solemn, interested, patient. They didn't need humor. She found Hermione's pitying eyes, then Harry's full of jade kindness. "I…" Ginny could hear her heart in her ears. She didn't know how to say this out loud, to make it concrete and give it volume. She looked up, finding courage. _He's dead. It doesn't matter anymore. Not to anyone, but her._

"I've probably been more… intimate with Voldemort than anyone. Save Harry. I wrote in his diary for nearly six months. We all know how he got in my head and possessed me, that's old news. I think it's easy to forget how much trust a diary- a memory- has to create to get a little girl to do terrible things like that. What she wrote on the wall was a quote, something I wrote to Volde- to Riddle. My theory is she's a bit jealous. I figure if anyone would actually _like_ the feeling of Voldemort possessing them, it would be her." She had done it. Harry, on her left, pushed his hand forward on the table. It could have been nothing, or an invitation for comfort. She pat and squeezed it briefly. "So. Now that's out there. It seems our biggest problem is Bellatrix being able to get into nearly anywhere she damn pleases. Any theories?"

Awkward laughter, everyone glad to be through with the drama.

Ginny began again, after a pause. "Hermione, what wards did you have on your apartment?"

Hermione's eyes were shining, she must have been suppressing tears. "Right, er, Harry did the Auror standards, you did the DA additions, and Molly's family protections." Ginny nodded. "Oh and the key, of course." Hermione and Harry laughed, but everyone else at the table gawked at her.

"You use a muggle lock on your door?" Malfoy's voice, but mild, and curious.

"Could anyone have taken your key?" Ginny asked.

Hermione's wild frizz danced as she shook her head. "No, but Harry has a spare, in case of emergencies." Mouths were open.

Harry looked around at the purebloods and grinned. "That's the normal thing to do."

"Weird." Ron shrugged, then stopped. "Oi! Is that the key that's in with the spoons and forks?" Harry laughed and nodded.

"Okay. Those are all the same wards that are up here, so we need to ask Mum if her ward has any holes in it, and check the standards for weaknesses. In the meantime, we'll stay hidden and up the security at our locations." Ginny nodded decisively.

The group was quiet for a moment, before Malfoy cleared his throat, looking hard at Hermione, who was shaking her head. They were having a non-verbal argument, the three Gryffindors watching in earnest. Finally, Hermione huffed out a sigh and rolled her eyes just as Malfoy flexed his strict posture and coughed. "Granger's been having dreams." He addressed Ron, Harry, and Ginny, ignoring Hermione, who was blushing unpleasantly and sucking on her lower lip. "But they're not dreams. I'm fairly certain it's legilimancy."

Harry's face grew dark immediately. "But she would have to be nearby."

Malfoy shook his head just once, his voice oddly calm and removed, almost treating this as an intellectual exercise, a hypothetical situation that wasn't sitting right beside him. "Her scar. The knife was cursed, it could even have some of Bellatrix's blood in it. It's just a theory, but the wards at the cottage are extreme, and the vividness of these dreams, the bitch would have to be in the room otherwise."

Several strange feelings came over the room. Harry and Hermione winced at Malfoy's language, Ron looked impressed, and Ginny wondered how he knew the exact vivacity of these dreams.

"How do you know they're not just nightmares?" Ron.

Hermione finally spoke up. "That's what I asked!"

Malfoy opened his mouth, but was beaten to it by a surprise ally in Harry. "Malfoy lived with maybe the most powerful Occlumens and Legilimens in the world for a year." Ginny watched Malfoy shrink inwardly, his lips pressed together and his head down. Ginny knew it to be an act of kindness that Harry didn't say Voldemort's name. Then again, he didn't need to. "Plus, he hid things from Snape, which was impressive, and his mum's supposed to be one of the best living Occlumens." Malfoy looked up at him at the mention of Narcissa. Not with anger, just surprise. Harry answered, "She was only in Azkaban for a few days, but she had hardly any damage from the Dementors."

Ginny was trying to think. She wasn't sure how Hermione's dreams came into things, or what, if anything, needed to be done about it. She would have to admit herself completely in the dark on this kind of magic. She looked around the table, but only Harry was looking at her. She blinked. He nodded. "Ginny, I think we need to get Hermione some Occlumency lessons, as soon as possible. And she needs to report any future visions to us." Ginny nodded. _Thank you._ Hermione looked between the two men, eyes concerned, her mouth peaked as if she wanted to refuse the order but agreed with the decision. "Malfoy, I think you can do the lessons, don't you?" Malfoy quirked an eyebrow, but agreed. Ginny had thought of it as a kindness to her, since she had no idea how one even learned Occlumency or how to find a teacher, but maybe Harry had just given Malfoy a little gift _._

"That's settled. Last but not least, Malfoy Manor. I know you two haven't had much time, but have you gotten anything from the books Narcissa sent?" Ginny watched Hermione glance at Malfoy, who gave her a small, permissive tilt, his hair, less tidy than usual, falling into his eyes.

"We have the beginnings of one." Hermione answered for both of them. "One of the books, you saw, was basically all about blood purity. Malfoy says there's really a whole section in the Manor library, it must be fascinating, all the history and customs of the pure-blood families, and the laws that they actually fought against, did you know they were once more of a radical activist sect?"

"Hermioneeeee" Ron whined. He and Harry gave her their patented "You're boring us with _Hogwarts, A History"_ look. Malfoy looked conflicted.

"Right. Sorry." Hermione's hair shook with her furtive apology. "Anyway- there was a chapter on loyalty spells, stuff the group would use to test your commitment to pure-bloodedness." Ginny must have looked as confused as everyone else at the table, because Hermione clarified, looking frustrated. "I think to move through the wards, either in or out, a witch or wizard would have to be pureblood _and_ fully committed to the pure-blood cause."

"But…the Malfoys have always been pure-bloods, and, er, rather committed to it wouldn't you say?" Ron looked warily at the pale man across from him, but Ginny thought it was a fair point.

"What makes you think she would be sure this would work on Narcissa, Hermione?" She asked, diplomatically. Ron sighed in relief.

Hermione bit her lip and looked down at the table, then at Malfoy. "The, er, dreams I've had? I had one about Malfoy." Ginny caught a flash of a blush on Malfoy's neck. "And a similar one about Narcissa." Malfoy's eyes shot to Hermione's, his expression at once angry, scared, surprised, and worried. Hermione found his eyes and stopped talking. Quietly, she addressed only him. "It's okay, I talked to her this morning. She showed me her arm. It was just a dream."

Suddenly feeling like she was interrupting something intimate, Ginny coughed. "Her arm, Hermione?"

Hermione rubbed her lips together nervously, but Malfoy stepped in for her. "Granger had a vision that my arm was being carved into by my aunt, like hers was. Only it was a much nicer word. I'd imagine it was a similar word for my mother?"

He looked at Hermione, who nodded, bringing herself back to confidence. "Traitor. Which is why the ward makes sense. They've both been, well, traitors to the cause, I suppose."

Harry sighed, and Ginny found herself relieved to remember his calm presence in the room. "That would be an incredibly advanced curse. I think we should ask Bill to explain what that might look like, what breaking it might take."

Ginny looked around the table. Ron looked bored, but healthy. Harry, concerned, writing up new orders for some Aurors in his head. She loved to watch his mind work like that. Hermione looked exhausted and exhilarated simultaneously, which was no surprise. She loved a good fight as much as Harry did, she just wouldn't admit it as readily. Malfoy, this wild card man that was now her ally, her protectorate, looking thoughtful and restrained. Ginny counted, and found it fairly easy, considering last night's events. _1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. Good._

"Well if that's all, Hermione you should start lessons right away. And keep reading. Harry you'll speak to Bill and change the security teams. Let's make sure no one on the Manor's detail is pureblood, and I think we can safely take folks off of Grimmauld Place. I'll talk to Mum about her ward and reset the ones here and at Hermione's flat. Am I forgetting anything?" Silence. Harry's eyes admiring her. Anxiety a palpable thread winding through the group. "Okay then."

* * *

Hermione and Draco sat on the floor in the bedroom at Shell Cottage. Cross-legged and across from each other, Hermione was having a hard time focusing, and a harder time letting Malfoy teach her.

"Close your eyes." Hermione rolled hers obstinately, but obeyed. "The hardest part is focusing, clearing your mind." She took a deep breath in, exaggerating it, feeling Draco's eyes on her chest. "Try to make a space, between all your thoughts. Imagine creating a yard, building a fence and keeping anything distracting you outside of that fence." Hermione imagined Bellatrix, her family, Ron, Harry, and Ginny on the other side of the fence. And Draco, standing pressed up against the wrought-iron bars. "Focus on the yard. Make it a white space, clear it of everything. When something else pops up, put it back over the fence." The strangest things came into Hermione's mind; old facts from history books and a question she got wrong on an Arithmancy exam, Ron's freckled shoulders and Harry's fading scar. "Come on Granger, you've got that big brain, you just need to focus it." Hermione whined with the frustration. Then the list of horcruxes she had repeated in her head like a mantra for months, the taste of her mother's biscuits and her routine walk to her office at the Ministry.

She opened her eyes and found Draco sitting cross-legged, very close, his knees an inch away from hers. He must have been nearly whispering. His eyes were so clear and quiet on hers. He emanated a strange calm.

"I can't do it." His proximity made her whisper, too.

"Yes, you can." He didn't sound like Draco Malfoy. He sounded like a monk or…he sounded like Snape: controlled, absolutely sure. A thought occurred to her.

"Who taught you?" Her question appeared to take him off guard, knocking him out of his closed-off peace. "Was it Snape?"

Draco pressed his lips together and she realized they had been slightly agape. "No."

"Your father?"

He scoffed. "He wasn't one. Never had the control for it." Hermione thought she heard him mutter under his breath something about intelligence, but didn't press it.

Hermione watched his gray eyes staring at the ground between them. She wanted to run a finger on the cheekbones that made him seem so sad. "Oh. It was your mother." She realized it as she said it, her voice rising like a question, though it wasn't one. She was sure. Draco looked up, a curious, small smile on his thin lips. "Your father…" She saw his eyes harden in an instant. Without thinking, Hermione picked up a hand to touch him, but didn't. She didn't know where to, and now her hand was hovering oddly between them and her breath was heavy.

"She taught me a trick. It might help you." His voice was hot asphalt on her bare feet, prickly and exciting.

"Yes, please!" Hermione almost laughed at her own excitement. Immediately closing her eyes and settling into her seat, she moved to set her hand back on her knee, but gasped when Draco gently held onto it instead. She peeked; his eyes were open, his lips curled up slightly.

"Go to your clear space, put up your fence." Hermione shut her eyes hard and started with her breath. She built her fence. She tried to ignore the feel of Draco's hand that was gently holding hers in the air between them.

"Okay." She was whispering again.

"Okay." She felt him move her hand to her knee and fought the surprising feeling of disappointment, but he didn't move his. He was sailing their hands together, down to her. She relaxed her hand and let him manipulate it. He placed her hand, palm up, on her knee. "Is that comfortable?" Hermione lost her fence, but focused on her hand, moving a half inch to set her knuckles more solidly on her kneecap. "Good girl." Something reptilian in her reacted to his words and she shut it down. His hand was on hers again. This time, it mimicked hers. His hand lay palm up, resting in hers. She cradled the gentle weight of it. "You lost your clear space, Granger." She bit her lip and smirked in silent confession. "Find it again." He waited longer than she needed. "Okay. Stay in your clear space. Now, read my hand." Hermione tilted her head in silent question. "Just…" she felt his slow breath on her cheek. "Catalog every part of it. Imagine you will be asked to draw it in perfect detail. Build an image of it in your clear space, but remember you must keep everything else out." Hermione groaned a little, wanting to show her frustration with the difficulty without admitting defeat.

Hermione let her mind soak in the weight of Draco's hand. She moved her thumb to gently memorize the texture. She remembered her meeting with Draco a few days ago. She huffed at the difficulty of counting the lines in his knuckles. She banished the apartment of mud to the other side of the fence. She slowly spread her fingers to curl further around his hand, finding the lines on the outside of his palm. She stretched her pinky, finding his wrist and his quick heartbeats. She wondered what he was thinking, if he was practicing, and moved that thought outside of the fence. She realized she had forgotten his smooth, short fingernails against the base of her palm and spent what could have been hours re-building them in her mind, trying to place the little white line in the right place for each one.

"Good." Draco stretched out the quiet word, but it shocked Hermione anyway. She caught her breath and found it difficult to open her eyes. He tried to pull his hand away, but it was hers. She knew it better than she knew her own, so she curled her hand around and held it. When she prepared for the light, which was blinding, she looked immediately to his hand. She turned it over and over, finding the little scar she had missed, and the wrinkles between fingers that she had forgotten. His arm was so relaxed in her own that she forgot he was there when he suddenly laughed. "I will need that back, actually." Hermione found his face and gaped, realizing the trance he had put her in.

"That was…"

His smile stayed somewhere in his eyes, but he was back to business. "Do you know how long you were practicing for?" She shook her head and the smile was back on his lips. She wanted it to stay, for some reason. "Nearly an hour. That's good." Hermione felt her eyes widen. _An hour?!_ It could have been two minutes and she would have believed it. "Did you have other thoughts?"

"Yes."

"And you put them over the fence?"

Hermione nodded, wanting praise like she was in class again. He knew her. "That's perfect, Granger." She had to suck on her tongue to keep from grinning. "Okay, I tried to put a few images into your head-"

"What?!" She finally released his hand. "You were in my brain?"

Draco tilted his head, his composure unchanged. "I don't think so, but I don't want you to get too big for your britches until I know for sure."

"You tried to though?!"

"Granger. What do you think she's trying to do?"

Hermione drew a breath so deep into her lungs that it felt cold in her chest.

Draco gave her a second, then began again. "Did the lake at Hogwarts show up?" She shook her head, anxious for the rest of the list. "Good. How about the meeting we had a few days ago?"

Hermione's face fell. "Yes. Briefly."

"Okay." He didn't seem concerned, which annoyed her. "How about the Quidditch World Cup in fourth year?" Hermione's brows went quizzical without her meaning to make them. "No."

Draco hesitated, but seemed to decide it would be okay to set his hand- _the one that practically belonged to her now_ \- on her knee again. She reached out to the warmth. "One out of three, Granger. That's very good."

"She can still get in."

He huffed with frustration. "You let one thought in, very early, in your second try, and I was very close by." He rolled his eyes. "You're very good. Annoyingly so. You just need to keep practicing." His hand was still on her knee.

"Are you doing this all of the time, Malfoy?" Hermione's voice was quiet. The question felt intimate, more intimate even than exploring his hand for an hour.

He seemed to have to think about his answer, and he glanced at his own hand on her skin. She thought his fingers might have twitched, but he didn't move it. "Partially. I'm not a full Occlumens."

"Not like Snape." Draco shook his head.

Hermione felt her heart reach out to him. He was more…human, more vulnerable, than Snape, than Bellatrix, probably than his own mother. She really, really wanted to touch those cheekbones now. His hand was on her knee. She probably could. She didn't think he would bat her away. She held her breath, and reached out, feathering one of his sharp cheekbones with her thumb. "I think that's a good thing." The space between them was tight and heated, and she had to exhale, so she pulled away. Knowing she would, she lost his hand in the process.

"Well. You need more practice." Hermione smiled at the pale pink blush that didn't suit him but bloomed onto his cheeks anyway.

She nodded. "Definitely."

He pushed himself to standing and Hermione followed. "You should get some shells from the beach for your object practice tomorrow."

Hermione smiled wide at him. "Don't you think I'm too advanced for that?" She laughed, teasing him, knowing he didn't want her to practice on anything but him anymore than she wanted to hold a cold shell for an hour.

He rolled his eyes and sneered, back to his normal self again. "I knew you'd get full of yourself if you were any good at this."

* * *

Draco lay awake on the floor, listening to Hermione's sleeping breaths and trying not to get angry at her. She had had a dream about his mother being tortured, and hadn't told him. Of course she hadn't told him, I mean it wasn't as though he had a clean record as far as tempers go. He had no idea how she trusted him to sleep at the foot of her bed but he wouldn't question what he had gained. _Traitor._ Well, it certainly sounded like Bellatrix. Granger thought that history was interesting, well. She wouldn't if she had listened to his aunt tell it. She was a fanatic. Her message to Ginny Weasley didn't surprise him one bit. It would drive Bellatrix crazy-well, crazier- to know a blood traitor little girl had been in Voldemort's mind, even just the pieces he gave to her. Bellatrix would actually be _jealous._ Outrageously so.

Draco almost shivered. Bellatrix having escaped was turning his life upside down. He hadn't been able to work in days, and he didn't see how he would be able to. He had gone from weekly meetings flirting with Granger to being afraid for her on a daily basis, nevermind sleeping two feet away from her, constantly tempering his breath and holding in his strange, tainted happiness at being around her. He was scared for his mother and for Granger and, hell, even a little bit for Potter and the Weasley girl. But the thought that haunted him every chance he thought he had been freed of it, was of his father. If Bellatrix could get out, couldn't he? Wouldn't he? Wouldn't he hate his wife for her betrayal, and him even more for his changes? His father had kept him scared and small and angry for so long, even if he was an adult now….Draco just wasn't sure if he had the strength to defy his wishes without the comfort of that blessed island.

"Why don't you go for a swim?" Draco was shaken from his thoughts by the small voice coming from the bed. "Isn't it beautiful at night?" _Is she talking to me?_ "Let's hold our breath!" Hermione's voice got louder as she repeated these phrases, over and over, a child-like laughter escaping from her throat. Finally, screams.

Draco clumsily rushed out of bed and over to Hermione, shaking her and watching her face, drained of color, come back to life. "Granger! Granger, wake up you're having another vision!" _I think?_ Her skin was clammy to the touch and it scared him. Warming her cheeks with his hands he got very close to her face. She wasn't waking up. "Come on! Hermione! Merlin, Hermione! Wake up!" He wiped the cold sweat from her forehead and pinched her cheeks, bringing color into them again. _Finally!_ Her eyes opened slowly.

"Draco?" He nodded, feeling his heartrate return to normal in his chest.

"You had another dream, it's okay. It's okay." He looked at the window behind her bed, at the wild sea and the quiet sky.

Hermione was quiet, catching her breath. Then, in a pained whisper, a realization: "she knows where we are."

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reviewing, y'all! Some of your reactions make me laugh so hard! I'm glad you're enjoying this story as much as I am!**


	7. Chapter 7: Maggie

Hermione woke up alone. In the morning quiet, Victoire's room was still and sunny, a vacuum of cool energy in the place where Draco usually slept. Hermione wasn't sure who it was that had first opened the little window behind the bed, but she was grateful now for the salty breeze that pulled her arms up over her head in a contented stretch. She wondered where Malfoy was, and angled her ear toward the window to see if she could catch sounds of him running on the beach or playing games with the kids, but all she heard was the tide. Stepping out of bed, Hermione found a pair of comfortable shorts and found the part in her hair before heading downstairs.

As soon as she left the bedroom, Hermione could hear Victoire was upset. She heard Fleur's voice trying to comfort her, as well as the deeper, muted tones of Malfoy. When the living room at the base of the stairs came into view, Hermione was a step closer to learning the cause. There was Ginny, a pile of flexible limbs folded into the smallest armchair in the corner, her fresh-faced determination asserting her authority as she answered a question Hermione hadn't heard. "Right away, I think. Probably this afternoon, I'm just waiting on an owl from McGonagall." She said to Bill and Malfoy, who shared the couch.

"We'll be sorry to lose the help." Bill said, genially, giving Draco one of his brotherly arm-punches. "Free nannying this one was." Hermione gave a little cough so as not to surprise anyone with her presence.

Malfoy looked up first, his intelligent gray eyes on hers, almost unguarded. "Morning." He nodded. She returned the greeting.

"Hey Gin. DA business already?" Hermione smiled at her friend. Ginny opened her mouth, presumably to catch her up, but Fleur interrupted.

"There's tea in the kitchen, Hermione. And toast. You should get something before you dive in. This lot has been up for an hour, they took their time." Fleur's voice was smooth and deeper than most women's, and Hermione noticed that she was losing some of her French guttural inflection. In her lap, Victoire was catching her breath after what looked like an awful crying fit. The seven-year-old wiped her nose with a clenched fist and hiccupped.

Hermione sat down in the last chair despite Fleur's offer. "I'm alright, thanks Fleur. I will in a bit." She looked at Ginny, then Malfoy, then back. "Catch me up. Is there news?"

Ginny shook her head. "You're the news, there Granger." Ginny chuckled, clearly ribbing Malfoy. "Do you remember your dream last night?"

Hermione hadn't. She sighed. Well that had been a lovely five-minute morning in a world without Bellatrix Lestrange hunting her down and playing with her head. She glanced at Fleur and Victoire. "We're moving, aren't we?"

Ginny grimaced and nodded, moving her entire torso in a rocking motion. Hermione heard little thick sobs starting back in Victoire's throat. When she turned around she saw the little girl clamoring out of her mother's lap, towards the couch. Finally, Fleur let her go with an exasperated sigh, and left for the kitchen. The little blonde part-veela crawled right into Malfoy's lap, to her father's mock astonishment.

"Don't go." Her voice was small and surprisingly low, like Fleur's.

Hermione wished she wasn't loving this. A child's misery was impossible to watch, but here was big bad Draco Malfoy, the infamous bully and Death Eater, combing Victoire's hair back and telling her. "I'm not going away forever, it's just for now. To keep you safe! There's a monster chasing me and I can't have it coming for you, can I?"

Victoire shook her head sadly, then changed her mind. "No! I'm not afraid of a monster!"

Malfoy looked at the adults remaining in the room, unsure, then he leaned in again. "Oh I know _you're_ not afraid, I know. But it's your job, and my job, and your aunts' jobs to protect your little brother and sister. That's your whole job, do you understand?" The girl put her head into the space between his shoulder and his armpit and he wrapped a tentative arm around her, nodding at Ginny to continue her explanation.

Hermione wanted to travel back in time and shove the moment in 12-year-old Malfoy's face. Some taunt that would be: "Look! You're a good person! You turn out NICE!"

"Right. Well, since we know we have Victoire here to protect the little ones, you two need to move." Ginny added, watching Victoire's posture straighten at her words.

"Is it just me and Malfoy?" Hermione asked.

Ginny shook her head. "Harry and I will move too. Malfoy said he thought she only knew about Shell?" Fleur came around with a mug of tea for Hermione, who thanked her and smiled, gesturing with her head at Victoire playing cheerfully in Malfoy's lap. Fleur rolled her eyes and smiled, a mother happy to share.

"Yes, I mean Seamus' wasn't in the dream at all."

Ginny bit her lip. "Yes, well I wish it hadn't been this soon, since we don't know how long this is going to last, but I think it's safer to move the lot of us, and see if she can find us again."

"If she _tells_ you that she's found you again." Malfoy's tone was ominous, and it made Hermione shiver.

"When?" Hermione asked, her mind, still waking up, was thinking about occlumency and blood purity wards and dreams about drowning.

"I'm waiting for-" and there was an owl at the window. Bill got up, retrieved the letter, and wandlessly sent it in Ginny's direction. "This! Yep. Floo network, Headmistress's Office, Five o'clock tonight and they'll have dorms ready."

"We're going to Hogwarts?" And despite herself, Hermione felt eleven years old and a huge grin swept its way across her face.

* * *

Harry had wondered, once or twice in the course of six years as bunkmates, if Seamus had ever shown himself capable of a quiet afternoon. He had never witnessed it himself. Even a slow game of wizard's chess became intensely competitive, the most dreadful late night of studying for exams ended at least in a loud, angry shout of frustration, often involving a book being thrown at a wall, making Hermione flinch. Yet in the last two days, Harry had enjoyed hours of calm work alongside the Irishman. Maybe it was the war. Seamus had lost Lavender, had nearly lost Dean, had watched what explosions were really capable of. But Harry thought it might have been the land itself. As they hauled and herded and spent a few hours mending a fence, Harry saw a focused Seamus. He couldn't help but wonder if the Irishman would've been happier as a Muggle.

Seamus had shrugged when Harry had asked something along those lines. "Probably, just as happy at least. No way of knowing, is there?"

"I mean, you barely use your wand out here, right?"

"I suppose so. Do sometimes, make bales lighter and all that, and the potions are good when the sheep are sick, but I buy most of those anyway." They both chuckled. Harry was absolutely thrilled not to be in the same room as Seamus trying to brew a potion ever again. "I don't know, I figure magic is helpful and all, but that doesn't mean you have to choose. Even purebloods would be muggles if they didn't have their wands, right?" Seamus grinned, but Harry's mind was spinning with blood-purity curses and manic Death Eaters who would torture wizards for these beliefs.

"Right." He said instead, as they brushed the dirt off their hands and walked inside the blissfully musty farmhouse to find Ginny packing her things.

Seamus saw Ginny first. "Are you two moving out on me?"

Ginny looked up from her trunk. "Yeah, thanks Seamus, for everything, we've got to keep moving."

Seamus clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Well, mate, you're always welcome. If all guests worked as hard as you I'd build more rooms."

Harry didn't know what to do but nod. "Thank your mum for the great meals, yeah?"

Seamus hugged Ginny and excused himself for a shower.

Harry had forgotten why he had been so eager to throw himself into manual labor for the last two days, but here was the reason, standing right in front of him, wringing her hands and biting her lip and looking as if she was considering unpacking her trunk just to have something to do with her hands. "We're off then?"

"Yeah. McGonagall's putting us all up at least for the next week."

Harry's heart lightened. "We're staying at Hogwarts?"

Ginny's laugh was a surprise, a gift, a little piece of his favorite candy for free. "Hermione and Ron made that exact face, you three are ridiculous."

"Oh come on, Gin. Hogwarts! We could play a bit of Quidditch?" Harry wiggled his eyebrows at her, feeling suddenly loose and eager. He could see she was biting back her own grin, and it made him want to tackle her and kiss her and wrestle her.

"It has been awhile since I've had a good game…"

"I promise you a grand one, Gin." Harry heard the sincerity slip into his voice, and he watched her hear it too. Silence. Her move.

Finally. "I'll hold you to it, Potter."

Harry practically skipped down the hall to pack his trunk.

When Harry and Ginny landed in Headmistress McGonagall's office, the first thing Harry heard was the strict Scottish voice advising him to be careful of the carpet. It made him smile when she didn't even look up from her writing to chide them.

"Hello Headmistress." Ginny began.

"Welcome back, you two. I've put you five up in the Hufflepuff dorms." She must have seen Harry's frown. "Mr. Potter, surely you understand that it is the house would last consider worthy of her attacks. Besides, they are lovely rooms and near the kitchens so you can fetch your meals independently if you wish." She looked at Ginny, who was behaving far less like a petulant child. "Is there anything else you think you may need while you're here?"

Ginny shook her head. "Thank you again for putting us up at the last minute, Minerva." Harry gawked at her use of the older woman's first name.

McGonagall nodded. "All you need do is tap the barrel in the middle of the second row in the rhythm of the House's founder. I believe Mr. Weasley will be waiting for you."

Harry poked Ginny's arm hard the minute they were past the Gargoyle and headed down towards the kitchens. "Minerva?!"

Ginny smiled. "Oh trust me, I hate it. But when we took up the D.A. and the Order was defunct, she insisted. Practically had to force me to do it the first time, but she says Nev and I are the commanders and we're not to think of her as anything but a soldier." Ginny scoffed. "As if. If McGonagall told me I was making a wrong call, guaranteed I would listen to her over any of you."

Harry repressed the sting of Ginny using a nickname for Neville, and for the way it rolled out of her like water. Too familiar. He tried not to let it bother him. He tried not to think about the last few times he had seen them together, always touching a little, reading each other's minds a little. He couldn't stop himself. Without looking at her, he asked. "How is good ol' Nev?"

Ginny stopped, dropping her trunk, and Harry immediately regretted his stupid, insecure mouth. "Don't start, Harry."

 _Maybe he could shrug it off._ "I just wondered how he was doing, that's all. Does he stay here during the summer?"

"No." Harry could hear Molly Weasley in her voice. "He stays with Hannah, his _girlfriend_. you know that."

"Oh, I didn't. Good for him."

"Excuse me?"

"I meant, good for him, Hannah's great."

"Bloody hell, Potter. Say it. Say you're jealous of Neville."

"Why would I be jealous of Neville?"

Ginny gritted her teeth and squinted at him. "You know very well why, and you better remember you promised, you _swore_ not to be an arse about this again."

"I wasn't an arse in the first place!"

"Oh that's your argument?! That you didn't blow up, not speak to him for weeks, not speak to me for weeks, glare at us in every D.A. meeting for a year, hell I don't know that you've stopped!"

"You're…quite friendly is all."

"Yes, yes we are Harry. It's called being friends! You know, like you and Hermione!"

"I never slept with Hermione!"

Ginny's open mouth was nothing compared to the glare she was giving him. Like repressive summer sun. "Go to hell, Harry." She picked up her trunk and continued on their path. Harry watched her go, a sick part of his gut glad to be feeling something other than the persistent drumming of desire for her.

* * *

It took Hermione and Draco all of ten minutes to pack their trunks, or in Hermione's case, one of Fleur's leather weekenders, and in that time Victoire seemed to realize she would be getting her room back and didn't mind Draco's exit quite so much. They spent the rest of the afternoon outside, practicing occlumency as good a guise as any for sitting on the beach. Hermione and Victoire combed the shore for shells, per Draco's instructions, and when they came back and found he had fallen asleep with his toes in the sand, they buried his feet and calves in it, giggling and screaming when he woke up and spooked them by wiggling his toes before saying a word.

Hermione sat cross-legged, facing the waves, and held a shell in her hand, following the same instructions she had with Draco's hand yesterday, creating it in her mind in painstaking detail. This time, instead of Draco trying to interrupt her thoughts, he simply let Victoire and her siblings play around her, pulling at her hair and rubbing sand along her arms. He smirked at her while she struggled to concentrate, having to rebuild her internal fence over and over again. When she finally gave up and found him looking much too cocky about it, it was her turn to conspire with the kids and they all tackled the Slytherin and the kids tickled him, Hermione holding him down by the shoulders, even though he had shown very little resistance.

The day was far too perfect, by Draco's standards, and he privately dreaded the transition to Hogwarts. As it neared five o'clock, and Bill and Fleur took the kids for ice cream so that the leaving wouldn't be dramatic and tearful, Draco stood in the living room, looking out at the ocean longingly.

"You liked it here." Hermione's voice was soft, simple, just stating facts. He nodded, not breaking his stare. "I'm sorry." It was just barely louder than a whisper.

Draco whipped around. "Why are you sorry?" His voice came out harsher than he had meant it to and she flinched.

"I…I'm sorry I can't block her out." She faced the floor.

Draco, with effort, kept his voice disaffected and low. "Bloody hell Granger, it's not your fault a psychopath cursed her way into your brain."

"I know." Then Hermione was looking out at the water too. Draco considered her wild hair and the profile of strain on her face. The chime came from the kitchen. Five o'clock.

Ten minutes later they were walking through the halls of Hogwarts. Draco could almost smell the old hatred he held towards Hermione Granger and her kind. Yet he rolled his trunk and observed how the leather bags draped on her shoulders weighed down her delicate body. When they reached the kitchen corridor, and found the nook on the right-hand side with the stack of barrels, Hermione brandished her wand and counted two from the bottom, middle of the second row and tapped the barrel in the rhythm of 'Helga Hufflepuff'. Draco held his breath, anxious that her last wand-tap was too light and that they would be sprayed in vinegar at any moment. Instead, he was able to exhale calmly when a round door opened and they heard laughter. Hermione drove forward.

Draco had never been in another house's common room, and he had always wondered if any of them were able to contain the same magic that the Slytherin dungeons carried. Dark as they may have been, Draco always thought you could really feel the magic there, in the way the Squid's tentacles pressed up against the large windows, or the exciting flicker of the green hearth fire. The Hufflepuff common room could not have been more different, but as he took a deep breath in and smelled herbs and fresh grass and something like nutmeg, he had to admit he could feel magic's presence here too. The room had low ceilings, but many windows that let in a streaming golden afternoon sunlight. Yellow and black overstuffed armchairs and couches cluttered the space, and the copper lamps gleamed so warmly he was worried they might burn to the touch. And the plants. Hufflepuffs (and Neville Longbottom) had always beaten the Slytherins in Herbology, and now Draco understood why. Magical and muggle plants alike hung from the ceiling, climbed up the walls, decorated corners and tables and the stairs to the dorms as if it was their room and witches and wizards were merely guests in it. The air felt cleaner because of it.

He remembered, suddenly, what it was like to sleep in a dorm. Sharing a room with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley wasn't exactly his first choice, though Hogwarts beds were more comfortable than the floor in Victoire's room had been. And there was the real problem. Would he be able to sleep without knowing Hermione was safe and breathing and not dreaming one of Bellatrix's dreams just a few feet away? A taste like heartburn in his chest told him he would resent this new safehouse for taking away his previous set up. He should, of course, resent Shell Cottage for ruining his peace, but he couldn't. Shell Cottage, the events that had taken place there, had made Granger a real person in his life. Before this, before Bellatrix, she had been a crush, someone he looked forward to a meeting with, a thrilling intellectual exchange with a beautiful woman, no more, nothing ventured, nothing lost. But the night of the mud, something had changed, and Draco hadn't ever bothered to find the other spare room because he needed to know she was alright, nearby, warm and calm. He knew what that meant. What staring at her playing with the kids, her insane hair blurry in the beach wind, meant. What his now recurring dreams of her soft, tan skin, wet with shower or rain or ocean meant.

"Oi, Malfoy! They put us in the first room on the left. Ron and I just put our trunks by random beds." Harry's voice reminded Draco that he was in a room full of people he was supposed to be speaking to, not staring at plants and thinking inappropriate thoughts.

"Right. Thanks. I think I'll do the same." Draco returned a nod from Harry and glanced at the back of Hermione's head as he turned away from the laughing group of friends.

* * *

It was oddly comfortable, Ginny thought, being at Hogwarts. The four of them, and that oddest of additions that was Malfoy, had eaten dinner at the Hufflepuff table in the Great Hall, after a laugh when Malfoy had headed to the Slytherin table just as reflexively as they had gone to their old spot at the Gryffindor table. They had passed the evening the way one did at Hogwarts, tucked into books and chess games and a particularly good time was had once they found a collection of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes that a Prefect had confiscated. Ginny was still freezing out Harry, for the most part, but that wasn't hard to do. When she had snapped at him during dinner, Malfoy had leaned over and asked Hermione if something was wrong. As Hermione had put it, "They just did this sometimes."

She had been exhausted when they had all decided to call it a night, but now Ginny lay in the cozy four-poster, tucked under a patchwork quilt despite the summer weather, unable to close her eyes, her calves tight with unused energy, her toes curling with frustration at the lack of sleep. Hermione's little copper lamp was still on as well. "Hermione?"

"Yeah?" Her voice came from the bed next to her own.

"You're still up."

"Mmhmm. Good book."

Ginny couldn't remember what book Hermione had been reading on the couch earlier that evening. "Are you hungry?"

"Er…not really? Are you?"

"Kinda. Restless. Think I'll go down to the kitchens. Want tea or something?"

"Sure."

Ginny found her robe, wrapping it tight around her so she wouldn't have to put on a bra, tucking her wand into the large pocket. She wiggled her toes into her slippers and shuffled to the door. Ginny had been down in the kitchens before. Fred and George had taken her in her second year, that year when her whole family had been excessively protective and coddling as she recovered from the trauma of the Chamber of Secrets. She and Dean had snuck down here twice when they had been together. It was a wonderful location for snogging if you could catch it at a time when the house elves were asleep. Ginny pushed open the still life portrait that guarded the kitchens and found the lamps lit, a single house elf rolling out dough at a huge but comically short table.

"Oh hello. Sorry to barge in, I'm just looking for a few cups of tea."

"Oh!" The little elf, wearing what looked like a doll's pink paisley apron, jumped six inches into the air, letting out a deep squeak that Ginny felt on her eardrums. "Welcome Miss! Professor Headmistress says you and other heroes might be coming down."

Ginny smiled. "I'm glad she gave you a heads up. What's your name?"

"I am called Maggie, miss." Ginny opened her mouth to give her name, but the elf beat her too it, her wrinkled cheeks blushing. "No need to tell me your name, I know Miss Commander Ginny from her beautiful hairs! You is a hero." Ginny blushed too, and laughed.

"Thank you Maggie. Just call me Ginny though, okay?"

The elf nodded so emphatically that Ginny worried about her neck. Ginny's eyes fell on the tin of tea and the kettle on the enormous stove. Boiling the water with a nonverbal spell, she looked around as Maggie sent two mugs flying her direction.

"Why aren't you in bed, Maggie?"

"Maggie is the assistant baker, miss Commander Ginny. It is good to get the bread to rising before morning. Besides, I like the quiet."

Ginny nodded. "Do you live here at Hogwarts?"

"Maggie used to be living at Hogwarts, yes, but not any longer. We have wages now, and Maggie and her boyfriend live in cottage in Hogsmeade."

"Wow! That's wonderful, Maggie. That's a long walk to work though. Especially in the middle of the night!"

The elf looked at Ginny like she was stupid. "Erm…no miss. Elves apparate easy." She snapped her finger, mimicking the sound of apparition, as if this explained it.

"Oh of course." Ginny could feel her mind whirring, working something out that didn't make sense. "Wait. You can apparate at Hogwarts? Through the wards and everything?"

Maggie smiled as if she was glad the stupid human was understanding. "Oh yes, miss. Wards are nothing to house elves."

Ginny's jaw dropped. _Of course! House elves! Hermione would kick herself for forgetting._ Ginny collected her teas. "Well Maggie, thank you for letting me interrupt your quiet and for talking to me. I hope I see you again and I'll be sure to have some of your delicious bread in the morning!"

"Goodbye miss! Ginny be having a good night."

"You too."

Ginny was in such a hurry to get back and tell Hermione that she jumped, dropping one of the mugs of steaming tea down her front, when Harry's voice called to her from the common room couch. "Bloody hell Harry! You scared me!" Ginny hissed as she set the other mug down and tore off the wet and very hot robe.

Harry watched her with a goofy grin. "Sorry. Couldn't sleep."

Ginny was too excited. Forgetting the tea, she jumped over to sit facing him on the same couch. "I know! Me neither. Hermione either, maybe it's being in the wrong dorm, who knows. Doesn't matter! I went to the kitchens for tea, which I am now regretting, except guess who was there!"

Harry shrugged, laughing at her mania. "A house elf?"

"A house elf! Exactly! Maggie. Adorable. Lives with her boyfriend in _Hogsmeade."_ Harry's face was blank, his grin wider. "She apparates to work, Harry! Because house elves can apparate through all kinds of wards!" Nothing. "What is wrong with you do you not understand what I'm saying here?!"

"You're not mad at me anymore."

"What!" Ginny remembered. "Oh. Right." She sighed and sat back on the couch, deflated from her excitement. "Yes, well, catching Bellatrix is more important than your idiotic jealousy."

"Agreed."

"You shouldn't be jealous of Neville."

Harry looked down. He was so cute when he was half asleep, his hair messier than normal, his scar a little brighter for some reason. "It's hard not to be, Gin. Sometimes." Ginny hoped the look she was giving him was telling him she thought he was an absolute idiot. "You're quite close is all."

Ginny looked down at her lap, wondering how she could convince him of the truth, that there was no reason for him to be jealous of anyone. She tried not to be angry that he still needed to hear that, but remembered that they weren't actually together, which might explain some of his doubt. _Idiot._ The truth was, she and Neville were close. He was her best friend outside of Harry and Hermione, and he was all _hers,_ another not-quite-in-the-Golden-Trio. He had been there for her in all the quiet, scary times when they had been having adventures. He had been her support in sixth year, when the Carrows had been torturing kids and the D.A. had been more dangerous and more important than ever. When Harry had broken her heart and gone off to maybe die and she had had to be brave and pretend she was fine. It hadn't happened while she was with Harry, or even on some sad rainy night where she had been missing him. And this was important to her. She and Neville had been together a few times because of _their_ friendship. Because they had an intimacy all their own. And sometimes, sometimes, Ginny wondered if it hadn't been for Harry, what she and Neville could have been. But the question was pointless, because for her, and Neville knew this, it was always going to be Harry.

Ginny looked up at the sweet, stupid, Chosen One sitting next to her. It only took a few moves to be straddling him. He started to stutter and she settled him with a matter of fact tone. "Harry. Do you see what I'm wearing?" His eyes flicked down to her tight, white tank top, her bralessness extremely evident. His eyebrows nearly hit his hairline and Ginny giggled and rolled her eyes at him. "Not that, silly."

"Boxers?"

Ginny wiggled in her seat and he put his arms around her to keep her from falling backwards off the couch, still keeping her at a distance, not pulling her close. _Good._

"Your boxers. I stole them years ago, and they're my favorite pajamas." Harry blushed and it made her blush too. Suddenly the thin fabric felt risky so close to his lap, and she could feel her pulse in her temples. Harry's hands were hot on her arms and when she licked her lips subconsciously, Harry's eyes shot there. She had to leave while she could still make herself. With her last reserves of restraint, Ginny leaned in and whispered unnecessarily in his ear. "There's not a single person you should be jealous of, Harry Potter." When she pulled away she saw she had achieved her intended goal. His eyes were glazed, looking at her like she was the answer to all of his questions, his mouth open slightly. _Merlin, she wanted to kiss that look away._ Instead she smiled and pushed herself to standing, picked up her robe and the cold cup of tea and walked away.

Hermione's light was out when Ginny returned to their room, but that was fine. Suddenly, she was calmer than she had been in days. Ginny thought she might actually get some sleep.

* * *

 **A/N: There were a couple reviews last week from readers new to the story so I wanted to say Hi! and that your comments warmed my little Slytherin heart. Also I PROMISE this fic will earn its rating someday, thanks for hanging in there while our boys and girls dance around each other. Finally, sometimes I squeal with happiness when I get a new review and it scares my puppy, and if that image urges you to review, so be it!**


	8. Chapter 8: Hogwarts

Chapter 8: Hogwarts

Ginny told everyone about her house elf revelation at breakfast the next day. Hermione didn't even have time to be angry for not thinking of it herself, she jumped right to being angry at Bellatrix for manipulating a house elf to do evil. Meanwhile Harry was immediately volunteering to set up all the old wards at Hermione's apartment and ask Kreacher to try to apparate in, though Ginny decided Neville could handle that, and it was safer to keep everyone on the list at Hogwarts.

"Are we any safer here? We know the elves can get in." Ron asked with half a mouthful of toast and jam.

"Our best bet is that she doesn't guess where we are, but we're just as safe here as we would be anywhere else."

"What does that mean for my mother, Weasley?" Malfoy looked anxious.

"I'm not sure, and we'll send an elf in to see if we can get her out, but if the wards around her are what we think- she might be the safest of any of us."

"How's that?" Ron interrupted.

Ginny had time for the first time to eat as Hermione jumped in to explain. "The blood purity wards we think she cast, they're based in intention. Almost like the Mirror of Erised" she pointed at Harry, ignoring the wrinkle on Malfoy's nose that meant he didn't understand- "it wouldn't work on a house elf."

"So an elf couldn't get in, or out?" Malfoy asked, and Hermione nodded her answer.

"That and we have two Aurors at the Manor at all times, it's the safest place in Wizarding England." Harry added.

"Ginny, what do _we_ do in the meantime, besides wait for her to scare us again?" Hermione knew her voice sounded feeble, but she couldn't hide her fear.

"The DA and Aurors are still tracking her. At this point we just want to find her before she finds us." Ginny reached out a hand to cover Hermione's, locking eyes with her and calming her gently. "And we have more people, more safehouses. Let's just stay here as long as we can."

They were at Hogwarts without incident for two weeks.

They fell into their own patterns. Hermione and Draco would spend mornings in the library or in the common room surrounded by the books and notes Narcissa continued to send. Ginny and Harry would take that time to run the D.A. and Auror operations, Ron chiming in occasionally. They tried the most loyal house elves of death eaters that were freely willing to attempt the wards at Malfoy Manor, but the wards wouldn't let them past, which sent Hermione into a long, memorable rant about considering house elves as thinking beings and not animals. Sometimes Neville came by to help plan or give updates. The Patil twins came to meet with Ginny every few days. Kreacher apparated into Hermione's apartment successfully, and Neville brought back a grumpy looking Crookshanks when he reported. In the afternoons, they all walked out to the Quidditch pitch and played a scrimmage while Hermione sat in the stands practicing her occlumency. Everyone (mostly the Weasleys) got irritated occasionally, but by the fifth day at Hogwarts, even Ron and Malfoy were getting along.

Draco asked Hermione every day if she had had another dream, and she always told him the truth: she hadn't. She got away with this until one day he noticed the dark circles under her eyes, and how she couldn't focus on the text in front of her, and that evening he pulled her aside. "You're not sleeping."

Hermione wanted to dispute it, but her body felt weak, and her mind was moving slowly. She took a deep breath and focused on her reasons. "I can keep her out, as long as I'm not asleep she can't see where we are, she can't show me something awful."

Draco's face was colder than usual when he looked at her. She wondered if it was concern or anger. "You need sleep." He said simply.

Hermione shook her head. "Don't worry, I get an hour or two every night. I just spread it out. So far it's working."

"You're smarter than this." Hermione looked at the man in front of her. So this was him worrying. About her. He did it so differently than Ron and Harry. Here was a man who would never beg or whine, never tarnish his pride or hers. He was asking her, adult to adult, to reconsider her choice. She had learned so much more about how his brain worked over the last week, reading and studying and theorizing with him. She got excitable when she had an idea, a new step in the analysis, but he never let himself. He took every piece of information in stride, adding it to the equation and observing what changed. It was discipline, she could tell. He used to be insulted or angered or scared so easily when they were kids. This wasn't the natural process of growing up, he had changed himself on purpose. It was an odd thing to see up close.

Hermione sighed. "I know." She felt the heavy locks of her hair fall into her face as she let her chin hit her chest.

She felt the air change as he stepped closer, blocking her into a corner of the Hufflepuff common room they now called home. She could hear the others on the couch near the biggest round window, watching the moon rise and the stars brighten into view. Hermione looked up and found his face softer, his blonde fringe falling into his gray eyes in a way that made her want to brush them back just to find out if he would let her. His voice was low and kind when he spoke. "Is it that you won't sleep, or that you can't?"

Hermione found no words, yet a small nod sufficed as an answer. She watched Malfoy look behind them at the couch and then find her eyes. "Don't go to bed tonight." Hermione's mouth opened to object but he was gone.

That night passed as most of them did. Ron passed around a bottle of firewhiskey as they counted summer stars and talked about everything and nothing. Hermione watched Harry's eyes float to Ginny whenever he thought he could get away with it. She saw Ron's anxious hands tear at the label on the firewhiskey bottle and she found herself watching Draco's lips as he explained something or other to them all, his sharp chin jutting out with an air of certainty. Ginny went to bed first, and Hermione pretended she wasn't tired at all and couldn't possibly follow with her bunkmate. Ron left next, and Harry sat with Hermione and Malfoy for a long, quiet hour.

Finally it was just the two of them, as Harry left with a curious expression on his face. Hermione moved from her spot near the windowsill to join Malfoy on the couch and they faced the sky. "Okay Malfoy, what's your secret to slumber?" Hermione let the little bit of alcohol lilt her speech.

"Lay down Granger." Hermione smiled at the gruffness in his voice. So different from the polite tenor when they worked together in the library or the soft whispers from the corner earlier that night. She did as she was told. Fluffing the black throw pillow that had been crushed under Ron earlier, she lay her head down, curling her body so that Malfoy had the last couch cushion to himself. Once comfortable, she lifted her head. He had pressed himself against the arm, giving her more space, but he didn't seem to plan on going anywhere. She wasn't sure she wanted him to.

"Is that all? The couch? Malfoy, this isn't even as comfortable as the beds." She poked him with her bare toe and he turned to face her, his face luminescent in the moonlight.

"You'll sleep because I'm here. And if you start having any kind of dreams I'll wake you."

 _Oh._ Inside of Hermione, an old chord was strummed. "What about you?"

Draco shrugged. "Your dreaming woke me up before."

"Are you going to sleep sitting there?"

"I've slept in worse places, Granger. Close your eyes."

Hermione did. And she thought about Draco, and the month he spent in Azkaban while Harry testified to free him and his mother. She imagined Draco, this man she knew now, and Malfoy, the child who had hated her, putting them both on the same imaginary cot in a brick cell, the cold haunting air of Dementors surrounding him for a month. As Hermione kept her eyes shut tight and let her thoughts glide from one thing to the next, as those thoughts moved to the other side of the fence, creating that clear white space, she kept waiting for Malfoy to move, or speak, or leave. But he didn't. He sat there, just at her feet, watching the window, his steady presence its own lullaby.

When Hermione woke up, it was light out, and Harry was in Malfoy's place. "He said to tell you that you didn't dream." Harry raised his eyebrows, waiting for juicy details of a night that didn't happen, but Hermione didn't care. She had just realized what Malfoy had done.

* * *

Malfoy slept through breakfast. As he plodded down the stairs to the common room he noticed the odd quiet. When he reached the large circular room and found it sans- annoying red heads he got nervous. Then he saw her, sitting at the table that was permanently covered in his mother's books and their notes. Hermione had been writing something furiously, but now she had stopped and was looking right into him. _Fuck._ He tried to steel himself.

"You were in my head." Her voice was cool and factual. It was almost scarier than the eruption of emotion he had expected.

"I didn't look at anything. I just kept her out."

"You didn't tell me that's what you were going to do." She stood.

Draco took a step closer. "You didn't dream. It worked and you slept. You look better." She flinched at that- just a little- and he took that as a sign, moving forward again, lowering his voice to the gravelliness he had last night that she had obeyed. "You won't be able to keep her out if you're exhausted, Granger. You won't be able to fight her if you're not healthy."

Draco watched as Hermione's resolve was lost. She was looking at the ground, not at him. Just as she had yesterday. He hated it, hated her looking defeated like that. She never hung her head in ministry meetings. Where was _Granger_? "You're right." She was saying to her shoes.

"Fucking hell, Hermione I can't hear you when your hair is in your covering your face." It came out harsher than he had thought it, and he hadn't meant to say it at all. Her round face rose up to meet his slowly, her mouth half open, her tan skin washed out with anger. Draco wondered if he had sounded like his father. He stepped forward once more, wanting to apologize, but she stepped backwards into the chair, away from him. So far away from him. "I'm sorry."

"Don't." She picked up the paper she had been working on and a few books and stomped off.

Hermione didn't talk to him all day, not that he approached her. He watched Harry notice, then Ginny. Ron was oblivious, all for the better.

The afternoon began with a hard summer rain, taking the fun out of a game of Quidditch and casting a gloom over the castle that matched Malfoy's sour mood.

* * *

Harry loved that nine times out of ten, Ron kicked his ass at wizard's chess. This had always been true, but he enjoyed losing a game to Ron as much now as he had when they were at Hogwarts for real. He could never explain it, enjoying losing, not to someone like Ron who cared about the game. When they were kids, it had been about someone really wanting to play with him, then about happily giving Ron the spotlight. At some point, chess had become about taking a break from expectations. Everybody expected something of Harry "The Boy Who Lived" Potter, except in chess. Ron was "the good one" there. Harry got to relax, and see his friend smile.

Yet here he was, laughing the afternoon away while Ron checkmated him twice, then asked gleefully if Harry was down for another round. Harry looked over at the rain pattering against the usually sunny windows, and saw Ginny, long, strong legs kicked up on the wall while she sat in a tall yellow armchair doing nothing. Hermione was still in the library, Malfoy had gone to see the old Slytherin common room. Harry was happy to lose another game.

* * *

Ginny refused to get up until the rain began leaking in through the big round window. In fact, she let herself fall backwards in the inflexible chair, watching and waiting as the drips began to collect at the seal until she couldn't in good conscience, let the leak get worse. Feeling responsible, she pulled her legs off their perch on the wall and groaned as she pushed herself to standing, conjuring a long towel and pressing it underneath the windowsill. She stretched her stiff body out, smiling when she felt Harry's eyes pulled from his chess game and onto her body. Her bones were restless without the afternoon exercise she had become used to. She had the urge to run and do cartwheels, as childish as that instinct was. She thought instead she would find Hermione, who could at least provide intellectual exercise or, even better, a little gossip.

Feeling small and careless, Ginny skipped down the halls on the way to the library. When she reached the entrance, she had to remind herself to regulate her breath and whisper. Despite her efforts at restraint, she jumped when she saw Hermione's mane of hair huddled over a book at one of her favored tables in an extra dark corner under a window that showed only gray clouds and lazy torrents of rain. Ginny jumped the last few feet to her friend. "Ok so…" she laughed when she saw she had taken Hermione by surprise, "Is it just me or is living in hiding because our lives are in danger getting really bloody dull?"

"Oh Ginny, goodness! What are you doing here?" Hermione looked up and had to blink to focus on her bright-toned friend in the dark stacks.

Ginny pulled out the chair in front of Hermione. "What? I've been in the library before!"

Hermione scoffed. "Sure, wasn't it your favorite hook-up location with Dean? Or was it Michael?"

Ginny smiled at the memory. "Michael. Good kisser. Enormous shoulders."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You're ridiculous."

"Just because you never…" Ginny wiggled her eyebrows in a gentle tease.

"Hey, you're the one that told me you told me you never wanted to hear about my-"

Ginny cut her off. "Still true! I don't need to hear about my brother like that."

"Just think of all the things I let you tell me about Harry, I've never looked at the man the same way."

Ginny's grin was half girlish and half devilish. "You're a good friend, Granger."

"Speaking of….?" Hermione had a way of lifting one eyebrow but looking away, making her shameless curiosity seem entirely by accident, as though the dirty details Ginny would eventually spill were entirely her own idea to share and Hermione was just an innocent bystander.

"Nothing to speak of." The redhead folded her arms in front of her chest and tried to hide her smile. Her trip up from the basement had been worth it.

"Oh come on. You two can barely keep your eyes off each other."

Ginny forced a pretend shocked face. "You're one to talk!"

Hermione's tawny cheeks went scarlet. "I have no idea what you're talking about." Ginny stood and watched, grinning and smug, as Hermione gathered her books. As she stomped out of the library, Ginny ran after her, giggling at her friends' faux misery.

"Oh come on, you never came home last night." She said as she stalked Hermione past the Great Hall.

Hermione stopped. "Draco-" Ginny raised a sharp brow and Hermione blushed again. "I mean Malfoy was blocking Bellatrix out of my mind so I could get some sleep, _Ginny."_ She said her name like an accusation but Ginny wasn't phased.

"Oh yeah? Is that what he's doing when he's staring at your lips all the time? Or when he gets distracted watching you during Quidditch? Or when he sits by you and"-Ginny mimed this part-"whispers in your ear all the time?"

Ginny thought Hermione should be grateful for her dark skin, she looked pretty even with the dark hue rising in her cheeks. Ginny would've been purple faced if their positions had been switched.

Thinking she had been victorious and Hermione would laugh and confess Malfoy was acting strange, Ginny was surprised when Hermione ran off towards the huge open door that faced the Great Hall. She was running, well walking quickly, right towards the pouring rain. _Shit._ "Wait! Hermione! I didn't mean anything!"

When she caught up with her, Hermione had sat on one of the top steps of the grand entryway. Still under the awning, only her mary janes and bare legs were getting dripped on. Her face was in her hands. "Hermione! What's wrong? Did I say something?"

Hermione looked up at her, then nodded at the space on the brick step she was seated on. Ginny sat, her Quidditch shorts fabric little guard against the warm stone. She breathed in the wet rock smell, that delicious summer rain smell. "I'm not upset, I just…I don't know what's happening right now. I feel like I'm losing my mind, Gin. First Bellatrix, so I'm scared out of my mind and I don't have my work or my life to keep me sane, and then this!" Hermione spread out her arms, then ran a hand through her curls which grew tighter and frizzier in the humidity as they sat there.

"This being…Malfoy?" Ginny had switched fully into supportive friend mode. It was just as enjoyable as gossip, though not quite as good as Quiddtich.

Hermione nodded, a tiny smile appearing in the middle of her lips. "I don't know what's going on. He's just…he's everywhere isn't he?" Ginny bit back a grin and a dirty joke. "I mean. It's not in my head, right?"

Ginny shook her head emphatically. After a pause, she asked the question that she really wanted an answer to. "Do you…like him back?"

Hermione glared at her, then squinted accusingly, then rolled her eyes. "I don't know Gin, it's not like we're actually fifteen and he's asked me to Hogsmeade, I mean. It's not that simple."

"Well…isn't it though? Couldn't it be?"

Hermione shook her head back and forth slowly, her long hair catching some stray drops of rain. "He went in my head, last night."

Ginny let her jaw drop, but she wouldn't tell Hermione that she wasn't surprised. _Of course he had. He was an Occlumens, a fairly decent Legilimens. What did she expect?_ _Or maybe Ginny was just too used to the idea of falling in love with men with enormous power who did stupid things to protect the woman they loved even when it was unethical and boundary crossing._ Ginny scoffed inside of her own head. "Is there anything you wouldn't want him to see?"

Hermione seemed surprised at the question and she paused. When her mouth formed a "No…" Ginny tried not to smile sympathetically. _Hermione was trusting him, maybe even more than that. Poor girl. Ginny knew how scary that was._

"Was he kind when he did it? Respectful?" Hermione nodded.

"He was just trying to help me sleep." Ginny repressed one hell of an "Awwww" and realized she was rooting for the strange pair. _Bellatrix really did turn everything upside-down, didn't she?_

Ginny stood up, brushing the brick dust off her strong legs that still itched for a run or a fly. If this rain kept up, she wasn't going to be able to stay away from Harry for long. She reached out a hand to help Hermione up. "Come on Granger, this is butterbeer weather." Hermione laughed and it was a beautiful sound against the steady storm.

* * *

They were all getting cabin fever, Harry could feel it. Hermione had said it best. They were just waiting to be scared again, just sitting around trying not to be afraid of Bellatrix. It was worse than the Second War in that way. Aside from looking for the witch, Harry couldn't do anything. There was no one to fight until they found her. Mildly reassured by the List and hoping with all the optimism they had that she would stick to the list and not hurt any innocents, even the Aurors couldn't do much. And though Harry couldn't think of another three faces to see constantly (with the strange addition of Draco Malfoy), he missed the city, the office, the pub, and every other face he was used to seeing on a daily basis. He had a feeling he wasn't the only one. Malfoy was starting to get restless, and Hermione was losing her mind without a hundred projects and a ministry to run. Ginny always looked like she had the energy to run a marathon if someone asked her to, but she was getting anxious all cooped up. Ron seemed mostly fine, actually, though Harry expected he would be coming home to many angry letters from a few women. And then it rained all day and the stifling humidity had them captive and frustrated.

Appointing himself in charge of morale, for tonight at least, Harry bribed two of the elves in the kitchen to bring back a few cases of butterbeer and once they were all in the cozy, dim, copper lamp-lit common room with a bottle in hand, Harry introduced their game.

"Here's how it works. It's called Never Have I Ever."

"Is this some kind of muggle game, Potter?" Malfoy sneered jovially.

"Yes."

"How in the world do you know a muggle drinking game, Harry?" Hermione chimed in.

"Well you never brought us any! What good is a muggle-born friend anyhow?" Hermione's tongue stuck rudely out of her prim mouth answered Ginny's joke.

"Molina taught me this one." Ron chuckled. "Muggle-born Auror. Good guy. Went to muggle summer camps so he has all these muggle friends now." Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron's bravado.

"Alright, what are the rules then?"

"I'm going to say something I've never done, and if you've done it you have to drink." A light round of laughter went up around the room.

"Oh boy" mumbled Ginny.

"Never have I ever…graduated Hogwarts." A round of groans and laughter, and Ginny and Hermione took polite swigs from their bottles.

"My turn!" Ginny called from Harry's left. He nodded at her, his eyes lingering on her lips. "Never have I ever…worked for the fucking ministry." Those lips stretched across her teeth as she smiled at him bitterly. Harry looked down and clinked his bottle with Hermione's and Ron's, before taking a long drink. Harry watched Ginny lift her bottle to cheers Malfoy and they took their own drinks to celebrate not working with the ministry.

Ron cleared his throat on Ginny's left. "Right, er. Never have I ever…" Ron raised his bottle up to his own lips. "…slept with a muggle." He took a drink, tilting his bottle up unnecessarily.

"Ron! You can't say it when you have done it!" Hermione's voice was high and annoyed. Harry expected her real problem was hearing about his sex life.

Ron simply shrugged. "Couldn't think of anything else." Harry lifted his own bottle to his lips and knew Ginny was doing the same.

Hermione and Malfoy were still. "Really, Malfoy? Never?" Ron crassly called across the room.

Malfoy's face was still as he shook his head. "Never."

Harry couldn't help it when his eyebrows rose on his forehead, but Ron spoke aloud Harry's thoughts. "Maybe you are a pureblood snob after all!"

Malfoy shrugged, a small smirk crawling onto his mouth. "Perhaps. Or maybe I'd rather not sleep with anyone I can't share all of my talents with, eh Weasley?" Ginny whistled and Harry watched Hermione's mouth open slightly.

"Hermione- your turn." Harry nudged his friend, who sat cross-legged on the ground across from him, with his foot.

She looked startled. "Right. Erm…never have I ever…oh this is hard!" She flopped her left arm, exaggerating the difficulty.

"See?" Ron said, receiving a stare from the brunette.

"Fine." She tilted her bottle at Ron. "I'll take your route. Never have I ever had a threesome." Harry's jaw dropped as he watched his friend smile innocently and drink from her bottle. No one else moved, and when Hermione realized this, her dark skin showed a deep blush.

"I'm impressed, Granger." It was Malfoy. Hermione's eyes went right to his.

"Me too." Ginny was awed at her friend. "How have you not told me about this?!"

Hermione rubbed her lips together anxiously and her whole body sort of curled as she shrugged. "It was intellectual curiosity?" Her voice went up at the end of her sentence, and Harry knew she was nervous but enjoying the effect of her surprise.

Ron looked almost angry. "Who?" He said, his tone sharp.

"You don't know them. They're a couple I met at book club."

"A heterosexual couple?" Ginny's voice, girlish like they were still students at Hogwarts and not just living there.

Hermione bit her lip and nodded. Ginny's eyebrows rose. Malfoy's lips curled. Ron adjusted in his seat. Hermione's voice was almost a squeak, "Can we move on? Please?" This made everyone laugh and the tension broke.

"Yeah, give us an easy one, Malfoy." Harry called out.

"Hard to beat that anyway, isn't it?" His sneer was deep, but his voice had a round kindness to it, so different from Ron's anger. "Never have I ever…dated someone I'm still friends with." He smiled and cheers'd them all as they groaned and giggled and took long drinks. "Don't know how you all do it."

Harry had the answer. It was easy. "Some people are just worth it. Some people you'll do anything to keep them in your life." He looked at Ginny, and watched Hermione and Ron look lovingly at each other.

She hadn't acted differently all night, through Harry's game and many, many bottles of butterbeer. Draco could take a hint. He didn't know how to apologize, but he would figure it out. It almost made him laugh. If Blaise knew the amount of pride he was letting go of for this girl he would kill him. It was like that wall, that tall strong thing that kept him from bending for and apologizing to women, hell, to anyone, was just gone now. He blamed Granger. Or maybe the little blonde Weasley girl and her rocky beach or maybe being at Hogwarts again. Or maybe a million other things that smelled like parchment and chamomile shampoo.

* * *

Draco rolled over and stared out the window, watching the quiet midnight rain. He usually closed his bed curtains, but he liked the rain. Now that he knew she wasn't sleeping, not without someone to block out Bellatrix, he wasn't sure he could sleep either. Which was enormously stupid. Not sleeping left him practically defenseless, when all he had was his mind. He lay there, eyes closed uselessly, thinking about anything but Granger, when he heard the door to the boys' bedroom creak open. He jerked up, grabbing his wand from underneath his pillow and wishing he had closed the curtains around his bed. He wondered if it was Ginny. The way she and Harry looked at each other was positively obscene sometimes, but he hoped they would at least silence their bed.

Frozen still and upright, still under the ugly patchwork quilt that covered the bed, Draco listened for another noise, but nothing came. Suddenly, there was a movement in his own bed, just to the right of him. He resisted the urge to scream and held out his wand, ready.

When Hermione appeared sitting right next to him, Draco's heart stopped. Her wild hair was tucked back in a braid and she had her wand out too, and Draco wondered for a split second if he had been wrong not to delve into her mind and she was actually Bellatrix in disguise. Instead, she whispered "Muffliato" and charmed the bed curtains closed.

"Sorry, I just think the boys might be rather rude if they woke up and saw me here."

Draco realized his eyes were the size of galleons. "What…are…you doing here?"

It was pitch black in the bed now, but he could hear her smiling. "Sleeping."

" _Now_ you want me in your head?"

Silence. _Damn._ He had offended her again. _Though not unfairly._

A tiny warm laugh. "Sorry, I was shaking my head. It's quite dark… No I'm just here to sleep if that's alright."

"Oh. Um. Sure." Draco had no idea what to do. _Was she wanting him to make a move?_ _Merlin, no. Was she really just going to sleep here? Fuck. Blaise really would take the mickey out of him if he did that._

Then there was a small hand on his shoulder. He jumped. She moved to the back of his neck, curled her fingers around the baby hairs there, pet them down again. The whole thing sent a hot current all the way down his spine. "Lay down Draco." Her touch was gone. He thought there might have been a sound like her head hitting the pillow. He lay his body down carefully and felt her wiggle into the bed. Her body was closer than arm's length, under the same sheets. He wasn't sure if he could breathe calmly enough to even consider sleep. "Just close your eyes." Her voice was smooth and easy to obey. A pause. He shut his lids, breathed calmly. He wondered if he would wake up with her in his arms.

* * *

 **A/N: I know this was kind of a fluffy chapter, but I wanted to spend a little time at Hogwarts. Don't we all?**

 **Big thanks to KatOwl for reminding me to take care of Crookshanks. Also thanks to 4fanci and HarryPGinnyW4eva for helping me think through some things, and everybody who comments on every chapter. I look forward to y'alls feedback every time I post! And a big welcome to any of the lovely people who found me from the Strictly Dramione group!**


	9. Chapter 9: Acceptance

Draco woke up alone. His limbs felt pleasant and tight as he stretched them out, rolled onto his side and opened his gray eyes to a dark curtained-in four poster, the sheets on his right mussed. He wondered if it had been a dream. When it occurred to him that if he lifted the second pillow and it smelled like chamomile and girl that he would know, he resisted the solution, refusing the humility it would take to learn that it had been a dream after all. Instead he sat up and rolled his strong shoulders, feeling the muscles creak and crack.

Throwing back the curtain and stepping out of the familiar bed frame, Draco looked to find his roommates were still in bed, Weasley snoring rudely in the bed farthest from his own. He found trousers and a clean shirt, pulling the cool fabric over his body still warm from sleep. In the corner of his mind, where he hadn't yet put that daily fence up, Hermione's name kept ringing like a sweet bell. He pushed it aside. Maybe she had been in his bed all night, maybe she had slipped into his arms and set her tawny cheeks on his bare chest. Maybe it was a real physical memory he was having just now and not his fantastic imagination that made her press her bum into his curved sleeping body, her back flush against his torso. Maybe his lazy arm had wrapped around her, pulling her close and maybe his sharp chin had found a nook in her neck to rest upon. He pushed her name off of the edge of his mind with the thought: _worst case scenario my dreams are getting dramatically more enjoyable._

He stumbled his way down to the common room, expecting it to be empty. He wasn't sure what time it was, but if Harry and Weasley were still in bed, surely the girls were as well. They might miss breakfast, but that was all well and good. Not as though they had anything to do that day. Draco found the couch near the huge round window that looked out into the grounds. The couch where he had helped Granger sleep only a few days ago. Where she sat now, hair wet, holding a huge book too close to her face.

Draco stopped short of sitting down. "Granger. Good morning." He felt his arms become odd appendages without purpose as he stood near the edge of the couch, wishing he had sat down without pausing, almost wishing she wasn't there, that his brain had had a chance to be rid of her in sleep before seeing her again.

Hermione moved her head slowly towards him without moving the tome she held tightly. "Hey there." Her vowels curved deliciously and the scent of her shampoo was powerful even from a yard away. "Did you just wake up?"

Draco nodded at the question. "Everyone else still asleep?"

Hermione finally set the book down. It had obviously been getting too heavy in her petite hands. "Ginny is. I assume the boys are too." Her brilliant brown eyes flashed to the expanses of couch next to her and he sat before he could hesitate again.

"Indeed. Snoring and slobbering, respectively." This made Hermione laugh. He wanted to do that more, but Draco had never been a funny type of guy.

"Sounds about right." She was smiling at him and it was unnerving, but he reminded himself to be calm. What could she do to him now, in her loose shirt and wet hair and the bright morning light?

"How'd you sleep?" He let their eyes meet as he relaxed into the yellow cushions. He had to admit the furniture here surpassed his own house's common room comforts.

She fell right into his eye contact, he felt it. With a gentle smile she answered his questions. "Quite well, thanks to you." He let his mouth open a bit, surprised after all that it hadn't been a dream.

His shrug was all for show. His smile was rare and real. "I didn't do anything." Without thinking, he raised his right arm up onto the back of the couch. If he had known a spell to get her to use this opportunity to crawl into him and curl her own back into his frame and pull his arm down around her, he would have cast it. He had a feeling she would fit perfectly tucked into him.

"I know. That's what makes it even better." It took him a whole second to remember she was talking about her sleep.

They both faced the stunning daybreak through the window. "No dreams then?" She shook her head and he watched her bare toes curl as she cozied further into the couch. "Good." The silence between them was contented, easy. As if listening to each other's breathing could pass for conversation.

Draco spoke again some time later. "What were you reading?"

A thousand hard-to-identify scents flew at him when she flipped her hair and faced him. He wondered if he had a thousand scents the way she did, and if it did anything to her to smell him. "Oh, it's the first big one your mum sent, _Purity & Penance. _It's fascinating."

Draco scoffed and felt her eyes on his chest as it puffed out and retreated. "It can't be that fascinating, it's all Death Eater droll, isn't it?"

She gave a little laugh, like a child's. "Well, yes. It is. But hatred is powerful, and they created some rather impressive magic out of theirs."

"Anything that will help us catch Bellatrix?" Draco kept his voice calm, nervous he would say something, anything, that would break the strange spell she seemed to have cast on herself.

Her head nodded against the couch, her wet hair dampening the Hufflepuff fabric. "Yes, I think so. I think I understand my scar, that is the connection she's made with my mind." Draco waited. Hermione pulled away from her edge of the couch and turned to face him, tucking her legs beneath her and rocking forward, excited by her learning, the little bit of gold in her eyes flickered at him. "She put her blood in the knife. That- her hatred for me- is what made the carving hurt so badly. Well, that and the sharp edge I suppose. But now, it's like her little bit of blood is in with mine. That's why she can get in my mind at a distance." Draco watched her lips move, barely hearing her. "So hypothetically, if she didn't hate me, or my kind, as much, the magic would be far less powerful."

"I don't think that's likely to happen Granger."

"Oh of course not." She leaned forward into his lap, closer to his face as she explained enthusiastically. "But it's interesting theory, don't you think?" Draco nodded, his eyes unable to move from the dancing freckles in hers, feeling the weight of her as she rested her arm on his leg. He was paralyzed. He couldn't do anything but watch her as she continued to talk about magical theory. This wild girl, brain bigger than the castle they sat in. How had he left his mind, his business, his history behind just to stare at this girl's lips? It didn't matter. It was too late to look back now.

The sound of a morning cough and a steady padding down a set of stairs shook them both, and Hermione moved to the opposite side of the couch in lightning speed, picking up her book. Draco's eyes widened as he found himself suddenly without her. Ron turned the corner and walked right past the couch and out of the common room without so much as glancing at their couch, and Draco and Hermione laughed like the co-conspirators Draco now knew that they were.

* * *

Ginny woke up all too aware of the emptiness in the room, and she didn't have to look to her left towards Hermione's bed and it's precisely tucked in patchwork quilt to know that Hermione hadn't slept in it. She slowed down her mind, not letting herself panic. She counted her anxious breaths. _1…2…3…4…._ Hermione had been drunk. She could have passed out on the couch, unwilling to make the short climb to the dorm room. _She could have been drunk enough that her mind opened and Bellatrix knows where they are once again._ She could have crawled into Ron's bed. Worst mistakes had certainly been made. _She could have climbed into Harry's... 5…6…7…8... she must have gone to Malfoy, who had the power to help her sleep. 9…10…hopefully that was it. That had to be it._

Walking on the balls of her feet, Ginny made her way down to the stairs to the common room and happily found her guess confirmed. Hermione and Malfoy were huddled together in the corner of the large couch, his pale, blonde features looking down at her dark looks with a tenderness that was shocking. Hermione's grin was so happy, Ginny didn't want to interrupt. She sat on the steps, unseen. She watched as Hermione turned around and faced the Slytherin, watched as she leaned forward into him, watched as she flirted with him and jumped away from him when Ron walked by. Watched when they both laughed at that absurdity, their gazes clinking together like champagne glasses.

Ron came back from the kitchens with Maggie behind him, towing enough tea and toast for their little group of refugees. Scuttling backwards around the stairwell, Ginny normalized her steps as she descended the stairs for a second time that morning. "Morning." She greeted the room in a voice louder than necessary and watched all three of her compadres turn to find her. With a dramatic yawn, Ginny questioned the room. "What time is it anyway?"

Ron nodded at her. "Ten. We slept through breakfast." Malfoy was repressing a smile, Hermione twirling a half-dry tendril of her hair.

Ginny smiled at her brother, wondering if he was angry, ignorant or stoic. Only the latter would be at all out of character for him. As she approached the breakfast spread behind him, however, she noticed his tight posture.

"Can I talk to you after breakfast, Gin?" Ron's tone was serious. Ginny nodded once, almost a salute as she poured a cup of tea.

Ginny looked up at the distinctive sound of Harry Potter breathing hot air on his glasses to clean them, a sound so small and clear that it rang in her ears. Standing in the narrow stairway that attached the common room to the boy's room, his face was fogged over in sleep. She knew his cheeks would still be soft and warm, his morning stubble gently prickling against her jaw if she were to lean into him and kiss him in that hollow between his cheekbone and his jaw. Paralyzed by want, instead she watched him put the glasses back on his face and focus his eyes on her. A silent lock in her clicked and it took another tense moment before she realized the teacup in her hand was burning her palm.

"Oi, Granger. Malfoy. Get your heads out of that book and get some tea." Ginny said in her best sisterly voice. Hermione's grateful expression and slight blush was her reward as the pair came around the couch, acting as casually as they could. Ginny wondered if Ron had seen the two of them sharing a single couch cushion earlier. She dreaded the possibility of having to tell her brother he had no right to be angry after the sheer number of women he had flaunted in front of Hermione after their breakup.

Luckily, she didn't have to. After a lazy, quiet, hungover breakfast, Hermione and Malfoy departed for the library, the pair eager and bumping into each other unnecessarily as they climbed through the barrel-like doorway. Harry grumbled something about a shower followed by a lazy fly around the lake and Ron and Ginny mumbled back their agreement. Yet as Harry departed for the dorms, Ron looked down at his hands, twitching anxiously in his lap.

Ginny watched her brother, her own internal monologue listing the possible conversations they were about to have in order of discomfort. Finally, she gave in. "What is it Ron?"

Ron looked up, his face bleached and oddly shy. "I want to go home."

Ginny's mouth fell open and she realized she had been clenching her teeth.

He leaned forward nearly out of his chair. "Gin. I wasn't on the list. She already had me, I don't know what else she could want with me."

Ginny attempted to interrupt. "But, Ron we still don't know what she wants. Besides, if she wants me and Hermione and Harry, there's no way you'll be safe out there." Ginny clenched her fist against herself, digging her short nails into her scalded palm in some combination of fear for Ron, her own frustration at their situation, and irritation that saying Harry's name sent a thrill down her neck even in this conversation.

"I know. But Gin, I'm losing my mind here. I can't help order around Aurors or the D.A., I'm shite at research. I'm no help here. At least let me guard the Manor or go back to work. I'm going mad stuck in this castle."

Ginny sighed deeply. It had been a stretch to include him on the list; Neville had asked her to justify it more than once as they arranged the safehouses for everyone on the list, and even Harry had asked for Ron back on his staff, they needed as many Aurors as they could get at the Manor and covering Azkaban. She knew it wasn't her rational brain keeping him here. Her brother had been taken, and she had been scared, and she had already lost one. She couldn't lose another of the stupid boys that helped raise her. Her position in the D.A. was supposed to finally allow her to protect the people she loved, to be the protector, not the protected. It was supposed to feel different, but it didn't. Sending Ron out for Bellatrix to find felt like walking into a trap. Bellatrix had never promised anyone to abide by her own scratched out list of vengeance. Yet he was begging, and he would be more helpful at the Manor or helping Harry wherever he wanted to send him. And she wasn't sure how safe any of them were at Hogwarts, not after Maggie and Kreacher had appeared through all of the wards she and McGonagall had added to the castle. No one was safe; it wasn't different at all.

Ginny rubbed her face in her hands, pulling at the ponytail that rested at the back of her neck. _1…2…3...okay._ "Okay."

Ron's grin was priceless, and he seemed to breathe a sigh of relief akin to scratching at a hidden mosquito bite.

* * *

"Do you think this will ever stop feeling odd?" Hermione whispered across the small, ancient study table in the deserted library.

Draco moved his gaze slowly away from the page in front of him to face her, his solemnity nearly unshakeable even as his platinum fringe fell into his eyes. His hair was getting shaggy all over after weeks without what Hermione imagined were regular and uniform trims. She noticed it was curling at the base of his neck. "What are you talking about?" Hermione could hear the steel he laced into his words, trying to hard to seem cold and uncaring. It was almost endearing now that she knew better.

"Don't act stupid Malfoy. This. You being friendly with all of us. Working together in the library with _Hermione Granger. A Mudblood!"_ She gasped mockingly and elbowed him across the table, wondering if she would get one of those smiles he selectively shared. She did.

"No, I don't suppose it will."

Hermione looked back at the table to hide her grin. _Good_ , she thought. She didn't want it to. This electric current that had been running between her and Malfoy was a kind of drug, something she hadn't felt since the early days with Ron. It had switched her on after years of dull dates, and if it had to be an old reformed nemesis to do it then so be it. Because this Draco Malfoy, not the teenaged bully but the man in front of her, whose pale hand lay an excruciating inch away from her own on the Hogwarts table, was kind and caring and really, if she had to admit it, quite sexy. And she was enjoying his harmless flirting, if only to keep her mind off of Bellatrix.

"What are you thinking in that big brain, Granger?"

Hermione came out of her fog of contemplation and found the shining, thoughtful grey eyes she was beginning to memorize. "Nothing. Sorry. So…do you think the theory would work both ways? Do you think the right person could block her out?"

Draco ran a long hand through his hair, mussing it up almost to Harry's level and the blinding casualness of the whole movement gave her a little shock. "I can see how the degree of the…*cough* hatred that my aunt feels for anyone without pure blood could make the knife powerful, but I'm not completely sure the reverse would be true."

Hermione felt the rush of a question, a challenge, in her veins. It made Hogwarts complete. "I'm not either. Dumbledore always told Harry that love was the most powerful thing, but in this case we're talking more, well, acceptance than love, right?"

Draco nodded. "Even then it would have to be as powerful as Bellatrix's hatred, which is almost all-consuming. Granger, no one feels…acceptance…to that degree."

Hermione felt her brows furrow as she frowned. "Even then we'd need a knife like hers…and to do some really quite dark magic to get the ally's blood into the knife."

The quiet was half calm, half daunting. Draco's voice cut through, deep and sure. "And the carving. Someone would have to—you would have to…" Hermione let herself find his hand with hers, unsure if she was comforting him or stopping his words. For one hesitant minute, she put all of the anxiety they had built with this theory into the weight of her right hand, and let it sink into his. Draco's thumb brushed against her palm, was it a mistake? A twitch? There it was again. Hermione curled her toes to keep from grinning. She was going to spiral, she could feel it, if he did it a third time. If it was intentional. Draco flexed his fingers underneath Hermione's, and she kept her nervous hand still, living too much in this moment. Then his thin fingers were flipped over and curling around hers in a sudden, explicit warmth. She wondered if it was his magic pulsing through her or something simpler, but she knew he was reassuring her just as she was calming him. Tearing her eyes away from their mismatched grasp, she found those oceanic eyes and the solemn pale cheeks and the thin, pink lips that were just barely ajar. _All she had to do was lean…no he should begin this… and he wasn't…maybe this was all in her head…but it couldn't be…_ He squeezed her hand, then pulled away, his bright gaze abruptly leaving hers.

His voice was a gruff whisper. "It's impossible, Granger. Or nearly." She watched him pack up their books, feeling suddenly cold and vaguely numb. "You're going to have to stick to the occlumency for now."

* * *

Ron left after dinner. Ginny had worked most of the day writing to Seamus, arranging a portkey to his farm, and discussing appointments with Harry. Ron would work at the Manor and stay with Seamus, but he had leave to be a normal person, to go out with friends from work and girls he had left hanging nearly a month ago. Ginny was still nervous, Harry could tell by the way she chewed the inside of her bottom lip and barely spoke when, at dinner, Slughorn missed his chair and fell with a comical sound that echoed across the Great Hall. She was so nervous that she left Harry and Hermione to wait for the portkey with her brother, she and Malfoy slinking off as soon as they were finished eating, to their own corners of the castle. Harry thought he knew where she was going, but there was time to find her later.

The walk to Hagrid's hut felt blissfully familiar to Harry, the notable rocks and steep hills that stretched his hamstrings to traverse down the same as they had been fifteen years ago. Harry understood he was romanticizing things a bit, but he couldn't help but remember the times they had walked down to the groundkeeper's place with nostalgia, letting the mysteries and slugs and dragons fade to the side. He walked a bit behind Ron and Hermione, who were bickering about something or another that had been said at dinner. Harry was happy to have them back to bickering, after the year or so they had spent in bitter, sorrowful tension after their breakup.

Ron reached the door first, and he knocked with his large fist while Hermione called out, "Hagrid, it's us!"

The man that opened the door was enormous, and Harry noticed bits of gray in his beard and long shaggy dark hair. His smile showed all his teeth. "'Ello Harry! Ron! Hermione! Bout time you came down to the hut, Fang's been whining for a visit." The dog in question didn't get up from his spot underneath the table and Harry doubted very much that Fang had any particular feelings one way or the other about a visit.

"We're just here for a moment Hagrid, Ron has a portkey down by the lake soon."

"I'll take what I can get, Hermione. It's good to see you three together. Like old times, isn't it?" Harry's heart hummed with love for the half-giant.

Ron snorted. "Hardly. Living in Hufflepuff dorms, hanging out with Malfoy of all people." Harry didn't miss the brief sneer towards Hermione at Malfoy's name, not did he miss the slight gleam in Hermione's eyes.

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. Fighting a death eater, staying at Hogwarts, seems about right to me."

Harry sat in one of the large chairs at Hagrid's table and watched his friends argue while Hagrid laid out the cauldron cakes and tea.

Under his breath, Ron snorted. "Used to be Harry that was obsessed with Malfoy. And for better reasons, if you ask me."

Hermione rubbed her lips together so tightly they nearly disappeared, but that was the only sign she gave of hearing Ron's remark. Harry coughed on the tea he had been sipping, and Hagrid beamed at the three of them, not having heard a thing.

Hermione's voice was small, just for Ron to hear. "Is that why you're leaving?"

Ron's eyes closed briefly, and Harry almost missed the nonsensical immature battles of their teenaged years. Sometimes this grown-up dance of respect and sensitivity was harder. "Only partly." Ron sounded like a little boy, and Harry wondered how truthful he was being.

Hermione just nodded and chewed her lip, thinking. "I'm not going to apologize for becoming his friend."

Ron snorted. "Sure. Friend. You keep thinking that, 'Mione."

Just then, sparks went off from Hermione's wand. "That's the timer. Your portkey's going to be ready. Hagrid, Ginny said you had it?" But she barely had to ask when a book on the table started to glow.

Ron stood and turned to Harry and pulled him into a brief hug. "You'll make sure she doesn't befriend everyone we used to hate on principle, yeah?" Hermione gave a small giggle behind them and Harry nodded. "At least not Lestrange." Ron hugged Hagrid, who picked him up, making him look like a child again, not the fairly tall grown man that he was. Finally he turned to Hermione, and pulled her into one of the hugs that used to make Harry turn around and give them privacy. It was strange to see them like this again, in Hagrid's hut, unsure of when they would see each other again and a little angry. It was like one of those pictures of a modern couple surrounded by ancient ruins, unsettling and comforting at the same time. Ron kissed his ex-girlfriend on the forehead. "Keep busy with that research Mione. We're still waiting on you to save the day." And with that he reached for the glowing book and was gone.

Harry and Hermione stayed talking to Hagrid for a good hour, sipping hot tea as the late summer night got cooler. They talked about Hagrid's newest creatures and Hagrid spoke about his own aging in a way that made Harry uncomfortably wonder what the lifespan of a giant was. On the way back, Harry tried to memorize the smell of the August air whipping around the castle grounds. He didn't ask Hermione what was going on with Malfoy, and was happy that she let the slow climb pass without questioning him on Ginny. They didn't discuss Ron leaving or Bellatrix's looming threats. Instead, the friends shared old school memories and wondered aloud whether Maggie might bring them some butterbeer when they got back to the dorms.

* * *

 **A/N: Okay I know I made you wait way too long for another fairly fluffy chapter. Forgive me! I'm now officially one of those writers that has to say that real life really got in the way. I promise rich goodness is right around the corner. :) Reviews are better than chocolate.**


	10. Chapter 10: The Prophecy

The pale light of dawn creaked into the warm, wood paneled dorms and landed on the soft eyelids of Harry Potter. He had been enjoying old, familiar dreams that involved a rousing game of Quidditch with Ron, Ginny, his father, Sirius, Fred and George, and though he had never seen him fly, Lupin. Upon waking, Harry was forced to realize the impossibility of those dreams, and of ever having everyone he loved alive at the same time. With a glance to his right, Harry remembered Ron's departure yesterday, and the workaholic part of him was quite relieved to know someone he really trusted would be guarding Malfoy Manor today. Harry's eyes moved across the room, where Malfoy's curtains were closed around the bed. Harry had been awake to hear someone, who was surely Hermione, come into their room last night, though no sounds followed, so either Hermione cast a very good Silencing Charm, or their sleeping arrangements were staying platonic. Hermione had told him about her nightmares, how Bellatrix was reaching into her mind through the scar she had given her nearly a decade ago. Harry remembered the feeling, and couldn't blame her for using anything that helped, even Draco Malfoy's Occlumency block. Finally, Harry completed his slow observation of the quiet bedroom, and found the sunrise glowing welcoming rays at him. An early morning fly around the Quidditch pitch was exactly right.

Careful not to make a sound that would wake up Malfoy and Hermione, Harry pulled on trousers and grabbed his pair of trainers and tiptoed out of the dorms. He was sitting briefly on the couch lacing his shoes when he heard the smooth voice that made the back of his neck warm. "Want company?"

Harry Potter looked up to see Ginny Weasley, long red hair tied back in a ponytail, face bare and freckled, smile tired and eyes warm and brown, holding her broom in her right hand. He wanted to kiss and hug and tackle and race her all at once, and it nearly paralyzed him. Pushing his glasses back up on his nose, he hoped his grin wouldn't give him away. "Yeah, of course." He answered as casually as he could as he stood, grabbed his own Firebolt Nova and led the way out of the Hufflepuff basement. "You're up early."

Ginny shrugged. "Couldn't sleep, really."

Harry walked beside her. "Ron?"

The redhead nodded. "And Bellatrix, and everything." Harry let a quiet sit between them as they entered the cool summer morning air. Ginny was like him. She didn't want comfort, just a space to say what she needed to. He could give that to her. It didn't take long for her to take him up. "I wish I could get everyone back to their lives. I know it isn't, but sometimes this whole thing feels like my fault." Harry opened his mouth to put her worries to rest, but she continued. "It's just that I can't catch her. And I don't know how long we could all be in hiding. I'm worried Ron was just the first, and if anything happens to him…I'll just feel awful. I asked the Patils to come today and give an update. Maybe between that and Hermione's research..."

They had reached the pitch. Harry stared up at the shining golden hoops, wishing he had a real game to play, a real Snitch to catch. He wondered how the dewy grass would feel between his toes. He wondered if Ginny's skin was still warm from sleep or perhaps had a sheen of sweat from the walk and the morning humidity. Harry had just given himself permission to reach over and squeeze her hand when he felt her unmistakable lips on his cheek. "Thanks" she said in a straight-forward tone, and then she was on her broom and shooting up into the air. Harry was determined to catch her.

* * *

Hermione woke up with Draco's arm draped over her shoulder, her backside tucked into the curve of his sleeping body. She hadn't been dreaming at all. Comforted by this realization, she flipped over and curled deeper into the man, letting his arm tuck under her so she was tight against him, her face in his chest, allowing her access to all the minty spicy cleanness of him. "I didn't dream" she whispered to him, perfectly aware that he was still deep in slumber. Yet he made a little low contented "mm-hmm" sound and pulled her closer. Hermione wondered if it was conscious and then she fell back into sleep.

* * *

Harry quickly caught up with Ginny, who then turned around and began chasing him, her laughter audible in the rush of wind. In, out, and around the golden hoops they flew, dipping low into feints and climbing high up until the rising sun blinded them. They chased each other, then raced, then flew lazy slow circles around the pitch. Ginny took off her shoes first, curling her toes into the grass. Harry followed suit, losing his sweatshirt as the day began to heat up. They did broom tricks for each other, Ginny lying flat on the broom while it hovered a few feet off the ground. Harry stood on his broom, balancing and reaching as if for a stubborn Snitch. Eventually they found themselves laying on the lawn, side by side, sweaty and giddy and enjoying that balance of an alert mind and tired body.

* * *

Draco woke up to the strong smell of chamomile shampoo and hairs tickling his face. It took him another moment to feel the girl in his arms, and another to remember the night before and her crawling into his four-poster for the second night in a row. He looked down. Merlin, she was beautiful. Even sleeping, her face crunched against his t-shirt and her hair wild from slumber. Draco thought he would like to count every eyelash that rested against her dark cheeks like a painting in sepia. Draco realized suddenly that he was quite hard, and also needed to pee. _Fuck._ Not wanting to disturb her, Draco wondered if he could make himself fall asleep again, forgetting his bladder and hoping she didn't notice what her own lower half was pressed up against. But he had to admit defeat quickly, and struggled to pull away without waking her up. Miraculously, Hermione gave only a little moan as he removed his arm from around her and she resettled into the mattress. "Don't go anywhere. I'll be right back." He whispered pointlessly.

When Draco returned from the bathroom, his bed was empty. With a small creak of opening the dorm door, Draco knew why. There were too many voices coming from the common room.

* * *

Ginny's mind was slightly less worried and restless after her morning with Harry. Her body felt good and strong and sunned, and she hoped the Patils would bring some good news. As she followed Harry through the barrel-like entrance to their new common room, she wondered when they might show up. Her question was answered when she saw the spooky pair of twins sat uncomfortably in the overstuffed yellow armchairs and talking to Hermione, who was still in her pajamas and looking quite half-asleep. Padma's usually dark and witchy looks were especially dramatic against the cozy backdrop of the Hufflepuff common room. Parvati's hair was now a shade of fuchsia that was almost hard to look at in the morning.

"Ginny, there you are." Hermione greeted them with a cheerful hospitality that didn't quite suit her.

"Hey! Good morning Parvati, Padma. You two are here early." Ginny smiled at her troops.

"No worries if you need to shower or eat or anything before we meet, Ginny. We came early so that we'd have time to visit Trelawney later, there's no rush." Parvati's extra-feminine voice calmed Ginny like a balm. Padma silently pursed her lips and Harry stood there, shifting between his feet. Hermione's arms were trying to cover her unsupported chest without curling up into a ball right there on the couch.

In the middle of all the friendly awkwardness entered Draco Malfoy, looking just as sleepy as Hermione, only his pajamas were immaculately wrinkle-free. "Morning all" His wry hello rolled off his tongue. Ginny glanced at his broad shoulders and the way his black tee-shirt contrasted with his pale skin. She'd never admit it to Harry, but she almost understood Hermione's crush. As if he heard her thoughts, Harry's hand was suddenly on her lower back. The warmth of it sent something like a tingle up through her spine and made her clench to keep from jumping his bones right there. Ginny and Draco sat on the couch on either side of Hermione. Ginny watched both of their bodies tense as they inched closer together. Harry sat in the last chair, his hair still damp from sweat, falling over his glasses. Ginny could see the little bit of sun on his nose and cheekbones.

"Alright ladies, what do you have?"

Parvati leaned forward in her chair, her cool demeanor threatened by her excitement. "Padma had a vision yesterday." Ginny tried not to get too eager herself as she looked between the two sisters. Padma nodded dreamily. "We focused on the list, and we were lucky."

The whole room was anxious now. "Well? What was it?" Harry urged softly.

Padma, all black gauze and dark eyeliner, spoke in a voice darker than her sister's. "It's best to hear the recording." She pulled out of her robes what looked like a Rememberall, only it had dark violet swirls floating inside, a color Ginny had never seen in a Rememberall before. With a wave of her wand, Padma made the ball spin in its place, as the swirls grew into a velvety blue and began to glow.

The ball spoke in Padma's voice.

 _The lions will be paralyzed, or else they will abide_

 _The twin, cowardly, will hide_

 _The mother may defeat the witch if the knight refrains_

 _The virgin, though she flies, must meet the knife again._

The air in the Hufflepuff common room stopped moving. Only the magical plants that breathed and the birds outside made sounds. Ginny's mind rolled around in the words she mostly didn't understand. George was the only twin she knew, and half of the people on the list were Gryffindor lions. The mother could be Narcissa, but it could really be anyone. No one on the list was a virgin, she was sure of that.

"What does it mean?" It was Harry's voice, still soft, still tired from flying. He barely took up that armchair.

Padma sat back. Parvati leaned forward. "We have a theory. You all did your star charts in Divination right?"

"I didn't." Hermione spoke up, subtly pulling her hand out of Malfoy's between them on the couch.

"Neither did I." Malfoy looked like he was regretting this choice. "We both took Arithmancy." The girly part of Ginny wanted to giggle at his use of the plural pronoun.

But Ginny understood, and addressed Parvati. "Hermione's a Virgo. When's your birthday, Malfoy?"

"June 5th." Hermione whispered the answer. Malfoy turned sharply to look at her. Harry raised an eyebrow.

Ginny addressed at Parvati, her mouth falling open with realization. "The twin. Harry and I are Leo's."

Parvati nodded. "Good, then the only ones that aren't clear are the mother and the knight, but those could be tarot or other constellations and we can figure that out."

Hermione stood and began to pace behind the couch, murmuring under her breath. Malfoy sat still. Harry's leg bounced up and down. Ginny watched them all and listened to Hermione mumble "The twin…the virgin…the lions…fly…"

"I have to fight her." Hermione's voice was clear, cutting across the room like a bell.

* * *

It was looking at Harry's eyes, not his own, that brought her realization. Because Harry was suddenly afraid not only for her, and everything Padma's prophecy had shared, but for him. Hermione had seen that sheen of apology in his eyes before, looking at her when he asked Ron to go on a particularly dangerous job for the DMLE. He was acknowledging Draco's fears…for her.

Hermione's glance flashed to Draco's eyes, searching in his for what Harry's had told her. She found the usually icy gray pupils staring determinedly at her: confident, not cocky, and brave, not hiding. They were full of goose-down and comfort. They wanted her in his arms. They were the same ones she had seen in sleepy mornings and in the library and in occlumency lessons, but she knew what they meant now. They were looking right at her, begging her but admiring her, and she was absolutely falling apart in them. She felt her knees buckle and her lips open. "Oh." Was all she had in her to say.

Hermione found her seat on the couch again, suddenly exhausted. She wished Draco wasn't sitting next to her, always stiff and polite and just right _there,_ all body and smell and eyes on her. She wished she could forget what she had just learned. She let Ginny take over, asking questions about the prophecy, having Padma play it again, asking about the mother and the knight, when none of that mattered to Hermione, because she had endured enough epiphanies for today, thank you. She needed a break. She needed a long walk around the castle, probably alone.

Hours later, Hermione was leaning against the railing of Ravenclaw Tower. Focused on the bold haze of the sunset on the long green expanse beneath them, overwhelmed with the nostalgia of the smell and feel of six years of evenings a lifetime ago, Hermione didn't hear Harry come up behind her until he announced his presence with a cough, standing beside her and finding the same stunning view.

"Gaining any wisdom?" Harry half-joked.

"How'd you get in here?"

"Same way you did, I reckon." He shrugged.

"You answered the riddle?" Hermione raised an eyebrow, impressed at her friend.

"Oh. No, secret passageway." Harry raised his left hand, which contained the old Marauder's Map. She couldn't help but chuckle.

"Are the twins gone?"

Harry nodded.

"Did you figure the rest of it out?"

Another shrug. "Mostly. The knight could be a lot of things, apparently. Most of it could."

Hermione nodded, but the bitterness that had engulfed her whole day still remained, and Harry knew her well enough to see it.

"Did I ever tell you what Dumbledore told me about prophecies?" Hermione shook her head and sighed, two small, defeated movements. "Ah well, I hated hearing it so that's probably why." If it wasn't annoying her, Harry's chipper attitude would have worked to cheer her up. "He told me that the only reason Trelawney's prophecy meant anything, was because Voldemort chose to act on it. He bought into it. If he had never heard it, never gone after me or Neville, it wouldn't have meant anything."

"Why did you hate hearing that?"

Harry smiled. He smiled so much more as an adult than he had as a child, it was almost eerie. "Because I always had a feeling, since our first year, that first time, I just had a feeling it would have to be me that defeated him. There was no point in a hypothetical conversation, it was already true."

Hermione grinned at the boy who saw through her. "Yeah." Her voice was quiet, sure. "That's how it feels."

Harry's simple nod was a comfort. It was indescribably good, having people who knew your heart.

Hermione let another minute pass before she tried the question that was pulling at her. "So Malfoy…"

Harry raised an eyebrow, but didn't turn to look at her. She could feel the subtle judgment within it. She shouldn't need him to say this; he shouldn't be the one giving her this information.

"Just. So I know I'm not going insane and imagining things, Harry? Please." Hermione pressed her lips together tightly, keeping in breath and a thousand feelings she wasn't ready for.

His lips carefully hiding a smile, Harry nodded and gave in, all without turning to her. "You're not imagining things. I'm pretty sure he's mad for you."

Hermione pushed out the breath. Relief.

"Has been for awhile, I expect." She found she had lost the rhythm of breathing, because there was no way she focused on it this much.

"You don't seem…upset?" Hermione could tell they were reaching Harry's limit on being able to talk about emotions, and he was the only one capable of talking right now, apparently. She couldn't find words she wanted out there on the record and everything. "I take it you've started to trust him?" She answered with an easy nod. Of course she trusted him. Probably since the lessons had begun, but maybe before then. Maybe it was the night with the mud, when he had showered her and given her so much tenderness. Lost in nostalgia, she almost didn't hear Harry's next words. "Hermione…do you think you might feel the same way?"

Hermione turned to Harry with such violence that her neck cracked, and found he was looking at her too. Fazed with realization and unable to control her reaction, she had to feel what she was telling Harry silently: her eyes were wide with fear, her cheeks hot with excitement, her mouth agape in confusion, her throat choking for an answer that wouldn't come. He smiled sympathetically at her, and with another glance at the coral sky, turned to leave the tower.

"Harry wait." Hermione turned around, leaving the view for better things. "Do you know where he is?"

Harry's eyebrows raised slightly, but Hermione ignored them. "Last I saw he was going down to the lake." Hermione whipped around, wondering if she could spot him from her perch, but the lake was on the other side of the castle. She looked at Harry. Their grins matched. "Thanks." She ran.

* * *

Draco wasn't at the lake.

Draco had abandoned the stuffy, overly sunny common room with a headache. After Hermione's departure, the Patil twins, Ginny, and Harry had picked apart the prophecy with agonizing attention. Tarot cards and smoky incense had been called for. Personally, Draco had never seen much value in the practice of divination, and wished the people who were in charge of his-and his mother's- protection weren't putting quite so much stock in the work of two novice Seers. But Draco didn't have control over much lately, and he wasn't about to lose it over this, not when they had so little to go on as far as research or plans to defeat his wicked aunt. And then there was Granger. If the prophecy was real, it was clear she would have to deal with Bellatrix's cursed knife again, which admittedly implied getting close to the bitch. _But maybe not._ Prophecies were tricky things, subtle and fuzzy and unclear, and that was purposeful. Even the best Seer was looking at a thousand possible futures, finding a few consistencies and putting ideas into wizards' heads about what they might mean. One thing Draco was sure of: if he was going to keep protecting her, he needed to return to the research around performing magic with that knife.

The library was dark and silent, far less fun without granger whispering in his ear and mumbling as she read, and it was making his headache worse to read in the dim yellow light. Irritated, restless, and unable to sit still, Draco left the library. He wished he could head down to the Slytherin common room, somewhere he knew had the right balance of light and dark and cool, calm watery sounds to lower his racing heartrate. But without a password he would only get himself more worked up trying to get into his old home. The grounds were too bright, the kitchens too crowded. And suddenly, Draco knew exactly where he wanted to be.

Sitting on the nearest ledge, looking out into the stone courtyard, Draco closed his eyes, imagining Shell Cottage and the beach behind it. Making a note to write Bill Weasley with an imagined reason to visit the little family, Draco settled for memories. Conjuring in his mind navy clouds and white rays of shielded sun, crashing gray waves and a pebbly beach, Draco could almost hear little Victoire asking to play, could almost see Granger's eyes bright and dark against the muted colors as they watched him. He could even see his own pale skin and white hair nearly glowing as he dove into the water. His bones could almost feel the strength of a cold morning swim. Feeling his heart slow into a normal rhythm, feeling his mental walls tumble, he found his breathing, imagining with each inhale the scent of salted and the soap he had so softly rubbed into Hermione's skin that night.

"Where are you?" Hermione's voice came into Draco's reality smoothly; he realized she was whispering, and she was close, blocking the sun in the courtyard.

Sure enough that it was her that he didn't open his eyes, his answer matched her tone. "The beach."

She sat next to him on the ledge, he could tell from the way the light changed, the way her arm brushed his. "Shell?"

Draco opened his eyelids slowly, hiding from the anticipated harsh light. But it hadn't been her that had blocked the sun, and the clouds that covered the sky now were a kind relief to him. She was next to him though, so near their pinkies brushed where their hands held onto the stone ledge. Almost as close as she had been this morning, in his bed. He suddenly found his breath came deeper and easier with her there, with her chamomile-girl scent to breathe in.

"You miss it?" She looked up at him, her lower lip poking out just a bit at her question.

Draco nodded, worried his words could ruin this, could make her run from this peaceful moment. Feeling like the teenager he hadn't had the chance to be, his heart jumped when her head was on his shoulder. She sighed deeply and he tried not to watch her chest rise and fall. "I miss it too."

Draco reminded himself to breathe, to be _cool,_ to stop thinking about what Blaise would say, what his father would think, what Draco of only a month ago would do if a girl he couldn't stop thinking about leaned into him like this and he simply put his arm around Hermione Granger, pulling her waist into him, letting her head fall into his chest, letting her look up at him again, those amber eyes pouring into him.

"Draco?" Her voice saying his name was a shock of cool ocean in his bones, his skin erupting in goosebumps at the sound. He didn't have a chance to respond. "Are you afraid?"

 _Gods. She couldn't ask a simple question. Of course he was afraid. For her. For him. For his mother. For the wizarding world he had already seen lose itself in violence and blind hate._ He said nothing. He nodded slowly, watching her eyes watch his chin move in answer. "Are you?" _Be afraid. You Gryffindors make stupid mistakes when you're brave. Don't make a stupid mistake with this, Granger, not with her._

"Of course." Draco's sigh moved Hermione's curls.

"Good." He said into her hair. _I don't even have you and I can't lose you._

"Draco?" The ocean, his ocean, their ocean, again.

"Do you know what would make me feel better? Less scared, I mean?"

She pulled away from his chest, facing him. It was like your favorite dinner being taken away from you before you had a second bite just as your favorite desert was plopped in front of you instead. She looked at him unabashedly, the girl from the other night who was confident in what she wanted and who she was. The brightest witch of their age. The muggle-born who would, he was almost sure, defeat Bellatrix Lestrange. "What?" His voice cracked on the word. He tried not to care; she didn't seem to notice.

Hermione bit her lower lip, her eyes falling to her lap, then back up to his, all nerve and bravery and shining gold. "Kiss me, Malfoy."

 _Oh, fuck._ He wanted to ask if she was sure. If she was ready. If he was imagining things. If this was real. But those were stupid questions, not worthy of her intelligence.

He hopped down from the low ledge. Watching her face fall, thinking he was denying her, running away.

She began to stammer mostly to herself. "I meant…oh hell, it was all in my head, I'm sorry Malfoy..."

"Shut up." His voice was back. Smooth, adult, fully in this place. His words made her mouth drop open in surprise. He stood, blocking the sun from her, pulling her hair back, pulling her into him, nearly falling off the ledge, trusting his hold. Draco looked into Hermione's eyes, finding millions of words and a thousand oceans, but nothing so good as to keep him from her lips. When his lips met hers, soundless bursts of crashing waves and sparkling charms went off in him, and he thought he might give up oceans for good, if he could only be here instead.

* * *

 **A/N: I told you I'd give you big things after all that Hogwarts silliness! It may be a few weeks before another update, as I have a couple trips planned back to back, but we'll earn that M rating soon, I promise. Do review, I can't wait to hear your thoughts about this one!**


	11. Chapter 11: Yours

**Fair warning: The mature rating has been earned at last! If you're not into sexy times you can pretty much skip this chapter.**

Ginny could hear her mother's voice in her head telling her to stop pacing before she wore a hole in the carpet. But she had never understood how people could hold still when there was so much to do, and see, and worry about. But Ginny had been walking the Hufflepuff common room since the Patils had departed for the Headmistress's fireplace, and she didn't feel any better. Stopping short, Ginny decided she needed to talk it out. As soon as possible. Finding a scrap of parchment from Hermione's large collection, she wrote down the words that had been ringing in her head since Padma had played them.

Ginny whipped out her wand and settled her breathing, thinking dreamy thoughts of that very morning on the Quidditch pitch lying in the sun with Harry. " _Expecto Patronum!"_ She admired the powerful wisps that made up the pretty horse. "Tell Neville, Three Broomsticks, 7 tonight." And with a swish of her wand, she dismissed the charm and sent it galloping out the window.

* * *

Hermione was melting. She knew, she had read enough books to know, that there were molecules of air somewhere between Draco's lips and hers, but for the first time she thought muggle science might be nonsense. Because this boy, this proud, tender man had her in his arms and his lips were engulfing hers in a way that made her suspect he had wanted this for more than the last few weeks. So she let him. She went boneless, malleable, and gave what was left of her over to him freely.

She couldn't say how long it was they stood there kissing, how many delicate ways he found to touch her neck and waist and graze his hand slowly up her side, hesitating at the intimacy of her waist, how many gasps and sweet little moans were exchanged. She discovered a sound, a new sound of his, something he had never made even in his sleep. It was a sort of satisfied, almost smug, unconscious little _mm-hmm_ and when he made it he pulled her closer in an almost lazy manner that told her he intended to take his time.

She wasn't sure about all that. Hermione, never having been one for impropriety, was suddenly ready for so much more of this man. She'd seen him shirtless, she'd grazed against him hard from the morning, and if his tongue's confident dance along hers now was any sign of things to come, she was excited for far more than kissing fully clothed in the courtyard. But for now she was simply soft wax in his hands and she would let him take her wherever he wanted to go whenever he was good and ready.

* * *

When Harry walked back into the Hufflepuff common room that was starting to feel eerily like home, he found Ginny standing in the middle of the room, her wand pointed at the window. He might have worried, if he hadn't seen the dizzy but determined look on her face before.

Ginny turned to his voice, surprised to see him standing so near to her when she hadn't heard him come in. She nodded, which didn't answer his question.

"Gin?" Harry took another step towards her. "You okay? I know the prophecy was a lot for one afternoon."

Harry watched the natural light change on the canvas of her cheek. Ginny's eyes turned to find his and her lungs found a deep, settling breath. "It was a lot. I'm trying to remember that it was good news." Harry's lip turned up into a question she was already answering. "The more information we have the better. It might not have been very comforting, but it was information." She still seemed distracted, fuzzy around the edges. Harry missed the clarity she usually held in her stance and voice.

Her small hand on his shoulder surprised him. "Walk down to Hogsmeade with me?" He furrowed his eyebrows in brief confusion, and Ginny addressed the floor. "I'm meeting Neville."

With considerable effort, Harry gritted his teeth and smiled, his heart suddenly a stone. "That's good. He'll help you think through this whole thing." Ginny's grin stretched her dimples and she awarded him a brief kiss. Harry's hand reached out instinctively towards her waist, but she had already pulled away.

* * *

Draco had been rather sure of his imagination. An only child and more intelligent than any of his friends at Hogwarts, he had spent hours of everyday living in his own head, imagining anything he needed to. And for the last few years that power had been taken up with the woman in his arms now. Now, Draco wondered what else his imagination had failed to estimate, because he had been entirely wrong about the way Hermione Granger kissed. He had expected her bookishness to tame her, but her rule-following lips were rebellious on his, taking what they liked without gentleness or apprehension.

He wondered how far they would take this, all too aware of their standing in the courtyard in the setting sunlight, Harry and Ginny and McGonagall somewhere nearby.

"Draco…" Hermione's lips hummed against his. With a smirk, Draco thought this would be a wonderful opportunity to explore her neck, if only to discover what kind of sounds she might make if he kissed her just there, where her thick hair hid her brown skin from the sun. "Draco…oh my…" He grinned into her soft skin, nipping her earlobe playfully. "Draco. Don't you think we should go somewhere else?" Draco didn't want to go anywhere, he didn't want to change anything, except perhaps if it gave him access to more of her sweet skin. _Oh._

Loathe to do it, he pulled away from her, tilting an eyebrow at her and silently asking exactly what her intentions of moving them were. She matched his smirk in a way that was almost disturbingly attractive, then tossed her head back in unself-conscious laughter. Draco bit back what would have been an all too earnest smile. Instead, he grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the dormitory.

* * *

Neville had beaten them to the cozy pub. He sat, twitching and nervous in a large booth by himself. When Ginny and Harry walked in, warm from walking with the setting sun at their backs, he pulled himself out of the booth so quickly he seemed to bump his knees and head simultaneously. "Ginny! Harry!" He half-whispered half-yelled at the pair, as if the two of them had been able to walk into a room without being immediately noticed in the last decade.

Ginny hugged him warmly, telling him to calm down. "Nev! Everything's alright, look at us, we're fine."

"Hermione?"

Ginny nodded. "Malfoy too. And Harry heard from Ron this morning, and I speak to Narcissa every day."

Neville let out a huge breath of relief and nodded a greeting to Harry.

Harry ordered butterbeers and sat next to Ginny, but gave her space. Ginny smiled at him gratefully. She didn't need any of his jealousy or tendency towards controlling a conversation tonight.

Reaching across the table, Ginny found Neville's slightly clammy hands in hers. "Thanks for coming Neville. I promise everything is okay." She resisted the urge, purely out of familiarity, to put her hand on his leg under the table to make him stop shaking. _That_ would definitely get a reaction out of Harry. "But we got some news today, and I need to talk it out." Neville nodded. Harry sipped from the large mug in front of him.

"Padma had a vision, or whatever they call it. Anyway, now on top of everything else we have a prophecy."

"That could be good, right?"

Ginny nodded, swallowing a healthy gulp of butterbeer. "Could be. But, hear it out." Ginny took the scrap of paper from her pocket and passed it to Neville. "Memorize it, I don't want a written copy floating around Hogsmeade." Neville made solemn eye contact with her, and she could almost see the scared, anxious twelve-year old inside. She wondered if he could see the same in her eyes.

Neville looked up at her, his face betraying his thought process. She loved knowing he thought like she did. He was finding the strategic strengths and weaknesses they now had, if the prophecy was true. But that was the problem. There were too many directions the future could go in, too many possibilities. It was too vague in some spaces, scarily specific in others.

Neville read it again, under his breath, and Ginny interrupted to clarify. "The lions will be paralyzed…"

"We think that's Harry and myself. Both Leos."

"The twin?"

"Malfoy."

"The mother must be Narcissa. No constellations called the mother, I don't think." Ginny had to smile at Neville's thinking out loud. She looked over at Harry, who was ordering another drink for himself.

"The knight?"

Ginny shook her head. "Not sure."

"The virgin- Hermione?" Ginny smiled and Neville reflected it. Then he looked down at the parchment again, crinkling in his hands. "The knife?"

Ginny looked down at the table. "Hermione thinks it means she has to fight her."

Neville frowned. "Not necessarily." Ginny felt a flicker of almost-hope. "It says 'meet the knife' right? She could be the one using it."

"That's true!" It was Harry, who looked immediately apologetic for interrupting, but excited nonetheless.

"And the lions. You two, right? Paralyzed could be _Petrificus Totalus,_ or _Immobulus._ And about four different plants. Those would all be temporary." Harry and Ginny sighed into relieved grins.

"Nev, do you think we can use this, make a strategy?" Ginny asked eagerly.

Neville quirked his head. "Gin. You know I'm not your guy for that. Talk to Ron, or Hermione. Even Malfoy if you trust him. All I know is, you need to figure out who the knight is, and don't be too afraid of this. You should know better than anyone," Neville raised his glass to Harry. "Prophecies can come true in unexpected ways."

* * *

Hermione had never done anything like this in the boys' dormitories when she had been in Hogwarts. It felt decidedly juvenile, and more than a little bit wonderful. Draco pulled her by the hand, catching up with her every few feet as though now that he knew what it was like to hold and taste and press against her with meaning, he couldn't stop. She let him, and she laughed like a teenager, and she kissed him back hard, forgetting everything dark and evil and painful that had brought them together.

They somehow made it to Draco's four poster. He whipped her around, pressing her against one of the solid wooden posts. She felt the hard strength against her back and gasped as he held her hands above her head, briefly, just long enough to give him time to run his hands up her entire body, peeling off her clothes while she struggled to catch her breath. She was about to move her hands, wanting to be holding him and touching him and leveling this whole nakedness playing field, when he was holding her wrists together again, and kissing her again, and exploring with those pale, long fingers.

"Oh Draco. Oh. God." Hermione felt her knees weaken as first his touch, then his tongue, found those intangible, unbelievable places. So quickly, his shirt was off too, and her fingernails ran up and down his back, over his sleek shoulder muscles, his tight chest. She peppered kisses everywhere she could reach. He moved them to the bed, kissing and biting and whispering sweet meaningless sounds.

Anxious for him, for all of him, Hermione begged and moaned and purred. When he finally united them, she ground hard against him, humming with satisfaction.

It didn't take long. He had prepared her in every way, she had been craving him for so long. Soon, Hermione's moans were climbing outrageously, her hips urging him on, her breathing hasty and shallow as she reached for his face to bring his lips to hers. Her mind was blank, peaceful and focused on the sensations Draco was making her body experience. He was everywhere, his tongue tracing her curves, his fingers twitching and pinching and adoring her most sensitive areas, his own length filling her, making her more than whole. He was muttering under his breath, words she could not hear, words like spells drifting over her as she collapsed for him.

As she fell over that ecstatic cliff, murmuring and whispering for his touch, she felt her mind come alive, like seeing something out of the corner of your eye that wasn't there before. And before Hermione could realize it, she felt the walls around her crumble and there she was. Bellatrix. Hermione's moans became screams, and she was only vaguely aware of a spent Draco pulling away from her fearfully, but it was too late.

"You disgust me" Bellatrix's crackling voice whined in the dark echoing space Hermione's mind had become. She could faintly hear Draco pleading with her but it was somewhere else entirely. "And you will die for it, mudblood."

Suddenly the walls were back, and Hermione was catching her breath, realizing her nakedness, finding Draco was holding her tightly, rocking her back and forth, murmuring meditations like prayers. She let him calm her, just as she had let him bring her to ecstasy before. Her sketchy breathing slowed to match the beating heart underneath his pale chest which he had her pressed against. It took time before she realized he was repeating her name, over and over, "Hermione" and "I'm here." Hermione let the message sink into her skin. Draco Malfoy was holding her, taking care of her, and she tried to remember that she was safe.

Hermione felt her tears drying on her cheeks before she realized she had stopped crying. She looked up to find the grey eyes that had become a kind of lullaby to her stressed mind. His deep voice whispered, "Do you think you can sleep?" Hermione nodded. Here, in his arms, his walls up around her, she could sleep. Without untangling, he lowered them together and tucked their clinging bodies under the light quilt. He pulled her tighter, and set their breathing to a quiet pace, and Hermione found an empty, restless sleep.

* * *

It was the kind of late summer night that reminded Harry of the Burrow, of being sixteen and sneaking glances at Ginny's bare shoulders when Ron wasn't paying attention. The walk from the Three Broomsticks back to Hogwarts smelled like grass and wildflowers and faintly of the sweet butterbeer on their mouths. The night air was clear and humid and Harry could see more stars than he could count, something he wasn't used to now that he lived in London. Harry thought, as he threw his head back to find constellations, that he hadn't missed the ministry and his work in weeks. Not since Ginny had brought them to Hogwarts. He didn't miss the paperwork, or the politics, or the busy work. He didn't miss dating or going out to pubs with coworkers and wondering how soon he could leave to go home to his flat and rest.

"Harry, how many drinks did you have, you're barely walking straight!" Ginny laughed and he let the sound fill him.

"I'm finding the constellations Gin! Come on, we have to find the virgin! For Hermione! It's her destiny!" _Maybe I did have one too many,_ Harry thought, but found he really didn't care very much.

"You're drunk, Harry Potter." But Harry felt Ginny link her arm with his, and plant a chaste kiss on his shoulder.

With a joking gasp, Harry winked at the witch, watching her hair glow amber in the yellow streetlamps.

They walked in a happy silence, Ginny partly supporting Harry, who insisted on staring at the stars.

"You didn't flirt with Neville tonight." Harry nearly mumbled the thought.

Ginny shrugged. "Of course not, we were talking D.A. business." She leaned herself into Harry's personal space before ducking out again, teasing him. "Very serious, all above board, you know." Her smile spread across her cheeks, wrinkling freckles and discovering dimples.

"I appreciate it." Harry hung his head, to hide his blush and vulnerable tone. When he looked up he say her draw her mouth tight. _Shit._ "I mean…I didn't mean to imply you belong to me or anything…I just…" But Ginny didn't let him finish.

She had stopped him in the street. Harry suddenly found the cobblestones made standing difficult.

"Of course I'm yours Harry. I've always been yours." Ginny's bright brown eyes swallowed him whole. He felt suddenly thirteen, small and overwhelmed. He looked at his shoes, demanding they find a steady balance.

"Um…then why aren't we together?"

The corner of Ginny's mouth raised in an almost smile. "We weren't ready before. Not for real." Still holding Harry's arm, she resumed their walk back to the castle. "I think we both had some growing to do. But I'm not worried, because I'll always be yours. I'll always be here." Her throat made a little sound and the clear chime of it was a bell waking him up to her. She looked up at him, her face open and earnest and not hiding from anything, and they had been hiding for so long. "I'm pretty much ruined by you, Harry. I never stood a chance." Harry watched her eyes. She wasn't expecting anything from him, not a kiss or a word or a grand saving of the day. She was simply the only person who got him wholly, without question, without doubt. Harry stumbled, letting Ginny catch his arm before he fell. "Merlin, Potter, when did you become such a lightweight?"

He let her laugh at him. He thought it might even be the best sound in the world.

* * *

Draco woke up to an empty space at his side. Though it took him a minute to remember that he had not fallen asleep that way- and why he wasn't wearing any pajamas- once he realized her absence, he worried. Half asleep, he pulled on his pajama pants and rubbed his eyes as he carefully meandered down the stairs to the common room. He paused when he saw her right away, curled up on the yellow couch, one of his t-shirts stretched over her knees, the moonlight falling on her skin.

"You know," Draco began, rubbing the back of his neck, stiff from lying strangely in bed. "Most guys would be a little put off waking up alone after that."

Hermione turned to see the tall man standing there in the dark. She opened her mouth to explain. "Sorry…I…um…I just couldn't sleep."

Draco sat on the couch, too far from her. "Granger, it's alright. We don't have to talk about it." Leaning hard against the back of the couch, Draco let out a deep sigh, closing his eyes, nearly ready to fall asleep again.

"We have to get that knife." Hermione's voice was quiet, a scratch in her throat from crying earlier and from sitting quietly in thought for too long.

Draco's eyes opened wide.

"I can't rely on your occlumency forever. It's the only way to get her out of my head permanently."

He couldn't help it. His insecurity had been held at bay for too long. On instinct, he sneered at her. "Anxious to sleep alone again, Granger?"

Her silence was strange, so he finally moved his exhausted head to find her in his line of vision.

Hermione Granger was a strange, erotic visual. Her wild hair framed her flushed, pensive face. He could see a red bite mark above her collarbone and he recognized it as his own. He could see, thanks to the full, bright moon, the slopes of her body underneath his white t-shirt, which didn't reach beyond her hips. She was crawling towards him, and he briefly wondered if he was having a very good dream when she crawled onto his lap. He pulled her closer, holding her small body tight to him. So soon, her lips were on his ears. "Draco. I want to be able to be with you without being afraid of… letting loose." She pulled away, finding eye contact before she was back at his neck again. She kissed her way to his ear this time, placing her silk mouth at the base of his neck, below his jaw, beneath his ear, on his earlobe. "Don't you want that?"

Draco really, really, wanted that.

"Granger" He was almost growling. "If my interest in defeating my Aunt suddenly increased, that would be purely a coincidence and not at all driven by how much I want you right now."

Hermione's laughter did nothing to lessen his desire. The freedom in her giggle, the way her hair fell down her back, made him want to swallow that laughter with a kiss.

He settled her into his lap further, making them both comfortable. "So, how are we going to find this knife then."

"She couldn't have taken it with her to Azkaban. I think it's possible it's still somewhere at Malfoy Manor."

"I'll write my mother now." Draco carefully tossed Hermione sideways off of his lap and onto the couch, making to get up. Hermione's laughing voice called him back to the couch. "It's 2 am Draco, I think it can wait until tomorrow."

"That's why they call you the brightest witch of our age, isn't it?" Draco smirked.

Hermione nodded, biting her lower lip. It made his whole body light up. "Yep. That's why. Come back to the couch."

For once, Draco was obedient. He slinked back to the couch and lay his body on top of hers, shamelessly squishing her beneath his bare chest. He squirmed, waiting for her to complain, but she didn't. Instead, she spoke to the air above them, "Do you think, if we just kissed for a little while, you could keep your walls up?" In reply, Draco found her lips with his.

* * *

 **A/N: I am so sorry for that wait (and the short chapter)! Thank you so much for all of the reviews I received while sitting on a beach drinking a margarita, sitting in a hammock in the woods, and sitting on my couch with a terrible cold. You are all wonderful and patient and lovely. As always, let me know what you think!**


	12. Chapter 12: Narcissa

"Well. I'm gone for one bloody minute and Hermione starts shagging death eaters." Ron's voice held laughter and a little bitterness.

Hermione opened her eyes to see Ron's face leaning over the back of the couch, looking down at her. And him. Draco was wrapped around her, shirtless and pale in the morning sunlight. She wasn't sure how the two of them fit on the small Common Room couch, but the intimacy of their position was rather…undeniable. She hadn't thought through the meaning of any of it, not after the trauma of yesterday. And now Ron knew. _Great._

"Good morning Ronald."

"Morning 'Mione." Ron's grin was vicious. He turned to Malfoy with a smirk of his own. "Good morning Malfoy."

Malfoy's old aristocratic drawl was strong in the morning. "What are you doing here Weasley?"

"Came to let you all know- the wards are down." Ron's smile turned genuine.

Hermione and Draco tried to sit up equally fast, their shoulders bumping, Draco's masculine and minty smell crashing into Hermione, reminding her of the very pleasant evening before. His hair was a mess and her fingers itched to comb through it. "What?!" They gasped in near unison, Draco's voice dark and unbelieving, Hermione full of curious hope.

"Yep. They came down last night." Ron confirmed, nodding at Harry and Ginny as they stumbled sleepily down the stairs from the boys' rooms. Under his breath, Ron muttered. "Godric's socks, is everyone here shagging?" Hermione didn't think anyone else heard him, but Draco silently smirked.

Ignoring Harry and Ginny's suspicious entrance, Hermione erupted into questions, standing and trying to subtly find pants before remembering they were by Draco's bed. She self-consciously pulled Draco's t-shirt as low as it would go. "How? How did you find out? Is Narcissa safe? Did Bellatrix show her face? Ron why aren't you telling us the details?!"

Everyone looked at her, standing there, pants-less and rapidly reciting questions at a terrible decible.

Ron waved his wand silently and a pair of Hermione's muggle denims came flying down the girls' dormitory stairs. Hermione caught them and Ron grinned almost sadistically. "I promised I would let her tell you."

* * *

It had taken more patience than came naturally to Ginny to get a drunken Harry into bed. If she hadn't been almost completely sober herself, her brain still processing the prophecy and the new couple curled up on the couch that they had stumbled past, she would have been tempted by him. He had been behaving like one of her most favorite versions of himself, kind and flirtatious and generous and goofy. _Her Harry_. The one the Daily Prophet and the Auror Department didn't know, the one the other girls he had dated briefly had probably never met. The one that came out when he was joking with Ron after a long summer day spent in the Burrow's yard. She had fallen asleep in one of the untouched beds in the boys' dorm, not willing to gamble the likelihood of accidentally seeing anything between her best friend and Malfoy if she walked through the common room to her own bed.

She had awakened to find Harry still passed out in his bed, hair ruffled, the little marks that usually sat on the bridge of his nose from his glasses erased. Ginny had wanted to crawl into the covers with him, find his warm-from-sleep chest with her small hands, freckle kisses on his cheeks and forehead and collarbone. She imagined he would groan sleepily and roll over, straddling her, hovering over her with his strong shoulders and wild green eyes, his near-blindness forcing him to squint and get so close to her face that their noses would touch, making it impossible for her not to reach up to him and touch his nervous lips to hers. Forcing herself to remember her priorities, Ginny had instead shaken Harry's shoulder and offered him a Pepper-Up Potion and his glasses when he sat up, the sheets sliding down his bare chest. "I think I hear Ron downstairs."

It must have taken Harry a minute to realize that Ron must be seeing what they had seen last night, and another for him to gather his strength for the battle between his two best friends that he was sure to get in the middle of. Ginny helped him find his slippers before following him down the stairs, groggily rubbing her own eyes and running tired fingers through her ratted hair.

Only a moment later, Hermione started losing her mind, and Ginny's tired brain had to guess what she was going on about. She looked over at Harry, finding his eyes focused on Hermione, working out the puzzle himself. Malfoy was watching her too, his eyes flashing adoration and amusement in turn. Ron seemed glazed over a bit, and tired himself. He watched Hermione with a lazy interest before he brought a pair of pants flying at Hermione's head. "I promised I would let Narcissa tell you."

 _Wait._ Ginny spoke for the first time to the group. "I spoke to her yesterday, what's happened?"

Hermione and Draco answered at once, excitement and anxiety echoing in their voices. "The wards are down!"

"Bloody hell" Harry mumbled from his stance beside her. Ginny almost reached out a hand to grab his, for comfort, for safety, for some sense that they still had any control in this situation. She took a step away from him instead, remembering her role as she saw so many pairs of eyes fall to her for guidance. She found Ron, his blue eyes so unlike her own. "Where is she, Ron?"

"St Mungo's." Out of the corner of her eye she saw Malfoy jump up in worry. "She's awake and she doesn't appear hurt, we just brought her there because we figured it would be secure, and to get checked out."

Ginny nodded, putting a hand on her brother's shoulder. "Good call."

"Why would she need to get checked out?" The question came with a small growl from Malfoy, who was hovering oddly near Hermione, as though he wanted to put his arm around her but wouldn't.

Ron shuffled his feet, turning to look at the blonde. "Last night, I saw a light turn on that we don't see often, and I thought it was odd. So, I sent my patronus in to ask Narcissa if she was safe." Ron looked around at the whole team, and Ginny nodded to encourage him. "We all did that from time to time, all the guards." Harry nodded at Draco, who looked at him for confirmation of these orders. "Usually, Narcissa- your mum- always sent her patronus back right away so that everybody knew she was safe, but last night she didn't send it back. So, I tested the wards and Apparated in. I figured the worst that could happen is they don't let me, but she could be in trouble. Honestly, I was even more worried when they did let me in because I wondered if Bellatrix had gotten through." Everyone stared at him, and Ginny saw the fear in Malfoy's face, and felt the nervous tension in her own. There was only one question in anyone's mind: _had Bellatrix been there?_

Ron's eyes found the floor. "I don't know if she was there or not. I found Narcissa in the dining room. She was passed out on the floor, but there were no marks on her." Ron looked exhausted from the re-telling.

Ginny stepped towards her brother once more, wrapping him in a short hug. "You did the right thing, Ron. You may have just gotten to her in time."

Ginny turned behind her to find Harry's face hard and conflicted. It eerily reminded her of Sirius, or even Mad-eye Moody. He spoke in a low, clear, authoritative voice that made her look at the ground. "You didn't take backup, you didn't ask permission to enter, and you didn't call me." Ron started to stumble excuses, remembering that Harry was, after all, his boss. "You're suspended for a month, Ron. To be spent with us and studying the rulebook." Ron stiffened, angry and relieved at once. He nodded once at Harry, who softened. "I'm glad you're okay. But you have to take backup on missions like this. What if she had been in there?"

"Yes, sir." Ron nodded, and Ginny recognized his new posture as one of a soldier, rather than a friend. He would stand like that until Harry relieved him. It was astonishing, and she hated to see her brother like this when he had just saved Narcissa's life. And Harry was punishing him for his heroic actions. With a small nod, Harry relieved Ron, who relaxed his posture back to normal, but he had the look of a dog that had been chastised and his grin was gone.

"Do you think it would overwhelm her if we all visited?" Ginny wasn't sure if Hermione's small voice was addressing Ron, Malfoy, or even Harry, who had just commanded so much ordered respect in the suddenly claustrophobic common room.

It was Ron who answered. "She asked for everyone on the list."

* * *

The small room in St. Mungo's Hospital had a door marked Private and two Aurors who stood on either side of this door. Hermione wondered if it was a bit too much, but she wouldn't say so out loud. Instead, she inhaled through her nose, leaning forward oh so slightly, so that she could smell Draco on the shirt of his that she had yet to remove. It was so much better than that hospital smell of muddy potions and herbal tea and a faint rotting smell that was likely a potion or charm but to her signified the presence of death. Hermione had all of her walls up today. After yesterday's…intimate drama, she wasn't taking any chances relying on Draco's strong, experienced occlumency. Her own novice barriers would have to grow stronger today.

Silently, Hermione tried to move yesterday, which had become like a song stuck on repeat in her head she had replayed it so many times, to the other side of the fence, to clear that internal yard of any distracting memories that sent shivers up her spine or made her grind her thighs together in anxious, heated, excitement. But his scent, she would hold on to. She had just gotten access to it, and she didn't know when it would fade. The loose white t-shirt and muggle jeans wasn't a normal outfit for her or for the wizarding world, and she saw more than a few witches in the halls of St. Mungo's give her second looks, but whenever Draco's eyes wandered over to her, she could swear that his eyes lit up with something akin to pride. Hermione didn't expect Draco to tell his mother about the two of them, and she wouldn't have told Ron so soon if it had been up to her, but at least today he would know when he looked over that nothing had changed since last night.

Harry spoke to the Auror at the door just as he had spoken to the medi-witch at the front desk. It was something, Hermione thought, watching regular witches and wizards, especially younger ones like these two, interact with Harry. To them he was a giant, a hero. And to her he was so normal. Sometimes when she looked at him, she didn't even see the Head Auror, sometimes he still looked thirteen and orphaned, with perpetually broken glasses and more insecurities than burdens. The Auror nodded and opened the door, moving aside to let the group of them through. As they moved into the room as a group, Hermione felt a hand on her lower back. She inhaled. _Draco._ And that quickly, his hand was gone as he moved past her towards his mother.

* * *

There was something uncomfortably intimate about seeing his mother in bed. Draco couldn't remember the last time he had seen her outside of at least daily witches' robes. She looked too small, too casual, in cotton hospital robes that made her look like every other patient here. It felt wrong, when Draco knew her rightful place was in garbs far finer than this.

It made him look down at himself, and he realized he hadn't worn a suit in almost a month. Realizing how comfortable he had become with the Gryffindors, with Granger, Draco tried to fight off the sudden urge towards cruelty or formality, those familiar guards. Instead, he gripped his mother's petite, pale hand. _It was all worth it_ , he reminded himself, as the tiny ache in his heart that had been burning since this morning had brought Weasley's poorly delivered news finally calmed. _She was safe._

 _They both were_ , a quiet voice in his head whispered. And somehow he, foolish former Death Eater bullying prat that he was, had become a man with two women to protect, and both of them whole and safe in one room. Draco exhaled, checking the strength of his internal walls and finding Hermione's eyes from across the room where she stood next to her friends.

"Draco, my dear." Narcissa's voice was warm and honeyed. He hugged his mum, tighter than normal.

"It's such a relief to see that you're safe." He whispered, though the rest of the group was giving them enough space that he didn't need to. "and I'm so glad you're out of there."

As he pulled away, he noticed the smallest hesitation and an almost eerie reflection of his own smirk appeared on his mother's face. He ignored it.

" —Narcissa" Ginny corrected herself at Narcissa's raised brow. "I'm sorry ma'am, I'm not used to addressing you in person."

Ever the hostess, even from her hospital bed, Narcissa lifted the hand not being held by her son and reached out to Ginny. "I suppose our friendship was borne rather strangely, wasn't it Miss Weasley?"

Ginny blushed as she walked towards the bed and took Narcissa's graceful hand in her own. "Yes ma'am." Draco moved to stand near his mother's shoulders, not eager to leave her side.

"You have a question, my dear?"

"I apologize" Draco wondered if he had ever heard the stubborn DA leader apologize with so much humility before. He almost rolled his eyes at his mother's strange powers. "They can certainly wait until you are feeling better."

Narcissa leaned forward. "Oh no, dear, you should have questions. And they ought to be answered as soon as possible."

Draco watched Ginny swallow. "Could you tell me what happened last night, Narcissa? Anything you can remember will be helpful."

Narcissa smiled, a small line of a grin that implied laughter and the knowledge of a secret and complete control. It was very Slytherin, and Draco had strange flashes of Blaise Zabini wearing the same expression whenever there was gossip only he was privy to. "We may need to go a bit further back than that."

* * *

"The first thing you must know is that I am sorry that I lied to you." Ginny held back from expressing her surprise. She knew better. Strong women, certainly mothers who had seen their children through a war, did not appreciate theater or false humility. Ginny had known Narcissa wasn't sharing everything since the day she didn't show up to go to her safe house. She just didn't know what the woman was hiding. Or if she would ever share. Narcissa continued. "My imprisonment was self-inflicted, to be quite frank. The wards keeping me in and others out were my own creation, an old mix of spells I used to protect Draco during his infancy." Ginny watched the slightest blush grace Draco's cheeks as his eyes flashed towards Hermione, then down at the ground. Narcissa looked at Ginny. "I hope you take no offense to this decision I made my dear, I know you have a wonderful network at your disposal. But I know my sister, and I know my home. If I'm going to be under attack, I'd much rather have the advantage of familiarity with the battleground. I also knew you would put guards up, whereas you may not at a safehouse where you felt you had more control. I assumed that, even if Bella managed somehow to get in, she might at least be intimidated by all the guards, or think it wasn't worth it. If she did come in, well let's just say I've dueled her before. Once I met you, I was even more assured that you would understand my reasoning."

Ginny nodded slowly, a smile rising on her lips. Narcissa was even more powerful, and far more cunning, then she had guessed. "Of course, Narcissa. I can respect that." Ginny pressed her lips together, thinking. "May I ask what exactly the wards were?"

"Oh yes. The wards I put around the manor essentially measure a witch or wizard's intention towards Draco." Mouths opened around the room in surprise. Ron nudged Hermione as if to say "You were right."

"You see, I designed them when he was first born, in the midst of the first war. I've always been a rather protective mother, I'm sure you're familiar with the struggles that comes with, Miss Weasley." Ginny nodded with a small smile, wondering privately if Narcissa and her own mother would actually get along quite well.

"But why did you use them now, when he wasn't with you?"

Narcissa nodded primly, as if to say she was getting to it in her own time. "My sister is unreliable, certainly. And unstable. She is terrifying when she wants to be, as many of you here can attest." She made intentional, compassionate eye-contact with Hermione, who was sitting uncomfortably in a chair across the room. Hermione was forced to look away in acknowledgment. "I do not hesitate to believe that she could have genuine intentions to hurt my only son. However, she has always been a true and good sister to me, and I think her deepest heart would never allow her to enter my home with the strict intention to hurt me. Therefore, the wards that would actually keep her out would be those that protected my son, even though he wasn't there."

Harry cleared his throat, and Ginny had nearly forgotten that he and Ron were in the room, standing quietly in the corner. "Excuse me, Mrs. Malfoy. Only, we tried house elves that-I assume- wouldn't have any intention to hurt Malfoy, and they were unable to get past the wards. Do you know why…?" Harry seemed unsure how to finish his own question, hesitant about calling attention to the Malfoy's prejudice against the creatures after it was too late.

But Narcissa nodded at him. "Very clever, Mr. Potter. You are correct in assuming that, had they been Bellatrix's wards, she would not deign to remember the powerful magic of house elves." Ginny could practically feel Hermione admiring the woman in front of her. "My wards, however, only allow you entrance if you have true devotion and intention to give care for my son. Any neutral feelings or feelings of duty that an Auror, or perhaps a house elf, might have, would not be enough."

Hermione's voice came quietly from the chair behind Ginny's back. "That's incredibly powerful magic." Ginny wasn't sure Hermione was speaking to anyone or simply murmuring in awe. Narcissa demurred, bowing her head with a small smile at the compliment.

But Ginny still had questions. "Narcissa. What made you take the wards down?"

"Ah. Here is where we get into some trouble. The wards break if someone passes through them. Hence, why I was stuck and could not come and go as I pleased." For the first time, the blonde witch looked down at her lap, avoiding Ginny or Draco's eye-contact. "I am not the one that took down the wards." She looked up at Draco, at her side and looking very protective. "And I do not know who did. I woke up on the floor of the dining room, that young man-" she tilted her head towards Ron with a polite smile- "asking if I was safe and if Bellatrix was there."

"And you're sure you weren't hurt?" The voice was Malfoy's, only somehow deeper and quieter and more serious than he had been in their strange pseudo-holiday weeks at Hogwarts.

Narcissa nodded. "I think I would remember it, or have marks of some kind. I'm a bit sore, but I suspect that is as much from being house-ridden as anything." She met her son's eyes. "There is no cause to worry about me my son. In fact, you protected me quite well these last weeks, though you did not realize it."

Ginny watched Narcissa lean into Draco's hand on her shoulder and she found Malfoy's eyes. He cleared his throat. "We should let you rest, mother." Narcissa didn't argue, nodding primly.

As the group filtered out of the small room, Ginny stood from the bed but hesitated.

"Narcissa…" Ginny tried to remember that she was the General of Dumbledore's Army, and had a right to this question nagging at her. "What makes you so sure that Bellatrix wants to hurt Draco, but not you?...You were on the list as well."

The older woman sighed, and for the first time Ginny saw how tired and too-pale she looked. "My sister is a very powerful witch, Ginny. But she doesn't always think ahead. She's rash, angry, self-serving." Narcissa was quiet. A less stubborn person wouldn't have waited for her to speak again, but Ginny felt an answer sitting on the careful woman's tongue. When she spoke, her voice cracked. "I may have told a small lie earlier. For Draco's sake. Ginny. I will protect my son…and everything he loves…with my last breath, but when Bellatrix comes for me, I do not intend to run, or to hide. I know what she is capable of, and I am not afraid."

* * *

Ginny left St. Mungo's in a daze, her mind spinning with Narcissa's words. Determined not to return to Hogwarts immediately, she found the nearest apparition point and closed her eyes, opening them in an alley next to a brilliant purple door.

On this late summer day, Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes was bubbling with children and teenagers who had never been possessed by Dark Lords or made into horcruxes in their infancy. Ginny did some math in her head. These kids didn't even remember war, didn't even know the persistent low hum of fear that Ginny saw on Hermione's face everytime she heard the word "mudblood". Sitting on a windowsill, Ginny shut her eyes and enjoyed the bustling sound in the large store on the other side of the wall. She leaned back and felt the sun on the glass pane warm her shoulders. Would these kids even need to fight? Be comforted by prophecies? Have their mothers concoct powerful spells because of their own families? Would the girls hovering over George's love potions find genuine love, only to fall apart when he started working for a fascist organization and wouldn't stop fighting to save the world even when he had already died to do it? Ginny scoffed at herself. _I think that one is just you, Gin._

Ginny hopped down from her seat and began to pace, thinking of Narcissa's final words that only she had heard. She intended to fight Bellatrix. So did Hermione. Two women that had tried hiding, tried blending in, tried the gentle approach, and found it unsatisfactory _._ It was supposed to be Ginny's job to protect them, both. But she couldn't keep them from fighting a battle that felt, to be honest, much more theirs than hers. Harry had only defeated Voldemort when he had finally taken control and had Ron and Hermione to support him. Ginny stopped pacing. _Alright then._ She took a deep breath, counting to ten and finding it easy. _Decision made._

 _Now for that other thing._ She let herself fall into the nearest folding chair and sighed. _Harry._

She was going to need more room to pace.

* * *

It must have been midnight when Hermione and Draco bashfully got up from the couch in the Hufflepuff Common Room and headed towards the boys' dorm together.

Ron looked at Harry, slumped in a yellow armchair near the fire. "Gross. Where are we supposed to sleep?"

Harry shrugged, unable to deal with Ron's jealousy when Ginny had yet to return from her mysterious errands.

"It doesn't bother you? Hermione and _Malfoy?"_

Harry shook his head, rubbing his temples to fight off the oncoming headache of worry. "Not really. He's been taking care of her this whole time, if you haven't noticed."

Ron scoffed. "I noticed."

Harry chuckled lowly. "I don't think you get to be jealous anymore, mate."

"I'mnotjealous" Ron mumbled under his breath unconvincingly. "Didn't blow up finding them without any bloody pants on this morning did I?"

Harry breathed out a laugh. "That was something."

Ron joined in on the laugher. "Did you see she had a damn hicky? Used to lose her mind if I left a mark!" He mocked Hermione's voice playfully. "Ronald! Your mum will see!" Harry laughed, despite knowing that Hermione wouldn't appreciate the imitation.

They didn't hear the Common Room door open, but Ginny interrupted their laughter. "That's because you boys never got the bad end of mum's lecture on "scarlet women." Harry grinned with relief at Ginny's easy presence. She slipped into her Molly impression effortlessly. "Ginevra! You may as well shout it to the world that you're loose! And wild! Do you want everyone to know you let that boy get under your shirt?!"

Harry stopped laughing, feeling the warmth of an embarrassed blush bloom onto his cheeks. "I never…" But Ron was laughing so hard he was doubling over, falling out of his chair, and Ginny just raised a brow at him, as if challenging him to lie.

She leaned into him, letting him sink deeper into his seat as she followed, her hands on the arms of the chair. "I told her if you were going to save the Wizarding World, the least I could do was let you under my shirt." Harry heard Ron cough something about going to bed, and heard him leave. Ginny didn't even look behind her.

"Where were you?" Harry's question came out in a breath, unable to break the intense eye contact she had established hovering over him.

Ginny licked her lips, drawing Harry's focus. She breathed deeply and her chest moved. Harry was uncomfortably aware of how in control she was of his attention. "I needed to think."

"You were gone for hours." It was an effort to keep this conversation going when she was so startlingly close. She shrugged a single shoulder to her ear, maintaining her pose over him. Harry bit the inside of his lips, daring himself. The whisper came from deep in his throat. "Are you done thinking?" The red head nodded slowly, her eyes not leaving his, her lips curving into a mischievous shape that Harry needed to kiss away. He leaned forward to do so, but suddenly she was pulling back, and Harry remembered her request so many weeks ago, her need to find Bellatrix. "Oh…" the sound barely escaped his mouth before she shook her head, dropping her head to one side and offering him her hand. She pulled him out of the chair and they were so close he could have leaned into her mouth without a second thought, but she was gone again, her hand pulling him towards the boy's dorm rooms. Harry looked at the door leading to Ron, Draco, and even Hermione. "But…" Ginny only shook her head, and opened a different door, marked Third Years.

Harry stood in the doorway, watching Ginny silently undressing, the light of the moon pouring in through the open window, silhouetting her form. Swallowing hard, he shut the door behind them and followed her inside.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry for the wait! Again! Agh! Work is a lot and it's election season here in the U.S. which means lots of volunteering on my end. Updates are going to be sporadic for awhile, but I can absolutely promise that I will not abandon this story! I'm very determined. I have also asked for some alpha help so the writer's block that has been haunting our little story should be solved soon as well! In the meantime you are all amazing readers and your reviews give me life.**


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